tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360799962024-02-07T01:44:10.971-07:00Just Jules"If you love someone, hurry up and show it." -Rose Zadra, age 6Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger160125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36079996.post-14378137002092436032012-06-21T10:19:00.001-07:002012-06-21T10:22:49.100-07:00Helly HillMade up a new game today...as I'm sure you've already figure out...it's called "Helly Hill." (Please don't be offended by the h-word. Hell is a place and I'm sure it's chock full of steep and never-ending hills for the more athletic sinners...wait, I mean for the less-athletic sinners. The athletic ones are probably NOT allowed to exercise). <br />
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This is how it goes. Find a hill. Find 10 rocks. Start at the bottom of the hill with one of the rocks in your hand. Run to the top, set rock down. Run back down. Repeat X 9. Rules are: you have to run up the hills...always. Every time. No matter what. You can run or walk down. Be prepared for passers-by to stare when they see you stop running to set a rock down in a straight line next to 9 others. They'll wonder about that all day. And you'll smile that you conquered your own Helly Hill! <br />
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Before any smart alecs comment and tell me these are ladders...or the shuttle run...or any of the other 29 possible names...and that this is not an original idea...I know, I know. But calling it "Helly Hills?" that is ALL me! :) <br />
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<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9EUmxVkA3Q1EPCV3PmeTu8sQcyzqEpUE7rzoEpc1Bb8KZidFrshZwev8M_REjz7oNda6eAIl1wUwNsa0S-F8sPYiuQlZpUvGI_eOrE0NU_1qNAL60girATWAlIjwGBdUKrxcu/s640/blogger-image--1303292913.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9EUmxVkA3Q1EPCV3PmeTu8sQcyzqEpUE7rzoEpc1Bb8KZidFrshZwev8M_REjz7oNda6eAIl1wUwNsa0S-F8sPYiuQlZpUvGI_eOrE0NU_1qNAL60girATWAlIjwGBdUKrxcu/s640/blogger-image--1303292913.jpg" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36079996.post-85673439979665226242012-02-23T22:01:00.001-07:002012-02-23T22:16:46.495-07:00Once there was a snowman. And then there still was...I'm not going to lie. I'm only breaking my 5 months of silence to prove that I can update my blog before Sher will. She and I were talking the other day and I told her I kept checking and her blog kept STILL being about a snowman. I laughed realizing mine was even more outdated. So. Enough of that. I win Pally! ;)<br />
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I should probably tell you more about my job or my life or maybe even post Havasupai pictures from last summer that have never quite made it here. Not gonna.<br />
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Instead I will rant about how I don't believe in fishing. I know it exists...but I don't like it. Fine if you're going to eat the poor fish, but what is this business of ripping the fish out of their home by their lips...only to put them back? This morning I went walking with a friend at a nearby park that has a man-made lake with men who fish there every morning. Normally I never witness them catching anything so all is well. Today this man caught several...and one of them was still hooked to the line flopping on the cement...while Mr. Brave Fisherman took his sweet time doing whatever he was doing that was NOT returning the poor fish to his home. I almost said "I bet you wouldn't be moving this slow if it were you UNDER water instead of that fish out of the water?!!! Put him back!!!" I don't really even like fish. I think they're gross and slimy and pretty stinky and I pretty much just appreciate that they are a good source of lean protein. But I don't like seeing them looking like they're suffocating on the cement. I know, I know..."Jules...they don't have feelings!" But how do YOU know...you're not a fish!!!<br />
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Anyway. The part of me that doesn't believe in hurting or killing animals is totally a vegetarian. The part of me that really loves chicken is less of a vegetarian. It's complicated.<br />
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And this would be why it's maybe best that my posts be...sporadic. See?<br />
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xoxo.<br />
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PS...I swiped this photo from the world wide web...drawn by Erika Aoyama. I don't know her but I bet she doesn't believe in fishing either.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36079996.post-74411663704081286002011-09-11T18:07:00.003-07:002011-12-31T14:21:41.865-07:009/11I was riding the USU shuttle bus up to campus. The radio in the bus was on and suddenly it was very quiet. The bus was packed...as many people standing as sitting...but all of the sudden the light-hearted chatter fizzled and we started really listening. When I got to campus, students were gathered around the tvs watching the news...I stayed and watched for a bit and then headed to class. I'm still grateful I missed the live coverage of the second plane hitting.<br />
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Our professor walked in with a cheery welcome and asked us all what was wrong...we were surprised she hadn't heard anything and we all at once started talking to fill her in. As a class we processed our thoughts (this is the benefit of being in a social work major...we process a lot). I remember the next professor (who was teaching some kind of global class...) trying to be calm but sounding anything but as she told us how things would be okay and how we as a nation would recover from this. </div>
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Don't remember much about the rest of the day...except that I felt scared...and older. I thought "if you wanted to wipe out a bunch of people at a time, a college campus would be a good way to do it..." but then quickly thought "but I'm in Utah...we're not exactly the most interesting target." Watched the news most of the day...</div>
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Anyway. Tenth anniversaries are big I guess. I've been trying to figure out why, maybe because it's been long enough to see change and progress, but short enough to still really feel the impact. I still feel it. Surprises me how much I do, considering how far I live from NYC and how the events of that day did not affect my life nearly as much as they did the lives of hundreds of thousands. But I guess it affected all of us in terms of realizing how vulnerable we are...how evil some people can be...and how fragile life is.</div>
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In 2009 I went to NYC with Mom, Linds, Kim and Suz. We had a great trip...while there we went to ground zero. There wasn't much to see because the fences were too high to see over...but we did walk to St. Paul's cathedral. </div>
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There were candles lit and signs hung...but the ones that got me were cards and drawings like this one:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxJLHmElL_YkgGQnfMmLg3Rs5HBeIxHGoodKqEH8DoBYskFWsxIIDk5sw4NTp6kikMaOwMg836Bdi_RDVsW5KYYLl_8ERTGV_yUzvPgedKpNzqYwqWYNjecMIz27DK8QbksuHp/s1600/dear+fire+fighter.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxJLHmElL_YkgGQnfMmLg3Rs5HBeIxHGoodKqEH8DoBYskFWsxIIDk5sw4NTp6kikMaOwMg836Bdi_RDVsW5KYYLl_8ERTGV_yUzvPgedKpNzqYwqWYNjecMIz27DK8QbksuHp/s640/dear+fire+fighter.JPG" width="406" /></a></div>
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I love the response from Joe...a real fire fighter...</div>
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On another one, a child had written these words in alternating red and blue marker:<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> "We really love our country, thanks for helping the people. We want to punish the terrorists. Thanks for helping clean up the city. I hope you get the job done and you get to go home to your family."</span></div>
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Yep...I was just riiiiight crying there in St. Paul's. </div>
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Anyway. I'm surprised at how much I've cried in the last few days. For some reason, I feel like it's not warranted...like I wasn't close enough to it all to care that much....but...I do and I cried when I read from cover to cover the 9/11 special edition of Time. I cried when I watched this: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=18lsxFcDrjo">"9/11 Boatlift"</a>, a youtube video about the water rescues that took place that day. I sighed when I found out Areta flew home yesterday...and is not flying today. Because...just in case... (She did tell me the airport and her flight were both pretty much empty...someone from the news interviewed her and got video of her hugging her sister goodbye before she got back on the play to head home). And I'm wondering how my <a href="http://julesx4.blogspot.com/2010/01/way-better-than-last-flight.html">buddy from this flight</a> is doing today, on his birthday.</div>
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I don't know that I'll ever be able to watch footage of the firefighters...rushing in as everyone else was rushing out...without feeling so much gratitude swirled in tears rise up. There is evil in the world, but there is so much more good. And for that, I am grateful.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand<br />
Between their loved home and the war's desolation!<br />
Blest with victory and peace, may the heav'n rescued land<br />
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.<br />
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,<br />
And this be our motto: "In God is our trust."<br />
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave<br />
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!</span></span></div>
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<li>Washed my car today. BY HAND. Didn't think to check the weather. Yep, rain tonight and tomorrow. Nice. At least I burned some calories. Bodybugg will be happy.</li>
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<li>Almost chose today as the day I start my life of alcoholism...due to being in my office (today is Saturday...so this was the first problem)...attempting to enter info into Quickbooks. Shane, the friendly "video tutorial" boy promised to have me "on the road to saving time, saving money and being more organized in no time" but mentioned nothing about sending me towards a dark and dangerous road. Shane, you let me down. (Reader: I did not drink alcohol).</li>
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<li>I love when my clients teach me things...including definition for the word "googol"..."it's the biggest number ever...and bigger than the one after that...like...you can't ever get that big. It's the highest number there is. But after that." So, in case you didn't know where "Google" got its "googol".... </li>
<li>Googolplex: the number 10 raised to the power of Googol...see, I'm good at math</li>
<li>And if you're thinking "sounds like "googol" was invented by a 9-year old," you're right. No wonder 9-year olds today are smitten with the word.</li>
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<li>Did you know you can blend 2 cups of cottage cheese with a Hidden Valley Ranch packet and thus drastically increase the amount of vegetables you eat in a week? More math for you.</li>
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<li>I started swimming. I'm a swimmer....or...at least I have the swim cap, goggles and ear plugs to make it seem as if. But I will tell you this: having goggles drastically reduces the amount of time a swimmer spends pulling arms out of/off of floaty lane lines and/or cement pool walls. Definitely worth $13. Apparently the nice linear tile design at the bottom of the pool is not just for looks...and if you can actually SEE, it will keep you on "the straight and narrow" so your fellow pool mates won't wish you would just drown already.</li>
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<li>There is such thing as Aqua Zumba. It is pretty magical. And Maria M. is changing my life one little "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h24_zoqu4_Q">cupid shuffle</a>" at a time...on land and in the sea. That Cupid, he's single-handedly bringing back line dancing...at least for all those who believe in Zumba.</li>
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<li>And on that note....(kinda), I still really want to participate in a flash mob. Maybe like <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lVJVRywgmYM&feature=player_embedded#!">this</a>. (Just remember, it's not "shorty hot pocket...") If I can't BE in one...I'd at least like to SEE one... <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=36TSxj38R8Y">This</a> one was local...WHY wasn't I at Tempe Town Marketplace that day?!?!</li>
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<li>I think that is all for now. I'm sure you've been sufficiently enlightened...</li>
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</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36079996.post-2890268949129105072011-08-28T16:26:00.013-07:002011-08-28T17:37:16.315-07:00My Office...<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Several months ago, my dear friend Kathy came to do a photo shoot at my office. Wanted to share because I love her work and because I want to share with you a little of "my world." This is where I spend a lot of my time...it's cozy and fun and I love that I have a job I love with little people I adore. (As a side note...the little girl in these pictures is NOT a client, she's Kathy's little girl, Ryann...who I adore. She and I are good buddies...I love when I walk in the door at her house and she squeals "Jeweeeee!" yep...melts me).</span></div><div>
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1UriBWkyE50Dxd7p6tiiGII0kSmwpUSMrmzH10BkNF8B7xjZ4yrHJ0uhZz2gmJnmXzsQ3pDlV6Nf-VmqZ_R9Y5boG9KUIB2YuLFKy4FNi33OgIgkpdBI3mdroTwUATuV-9iIs/s400/markers.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646055886414319154" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP4y4gLASTRB1i1tDECFH8BhMW0Mrv9ytTalZZDQySnED1oUV5R6eJlw9nvaJIRM4qfy7v0LOIDuPiuDEcjEFdm3sMaHOLfLyWhcBRxaw4PrVIPaEhYs2aFa5FbWzZy4HwHAhI/s400/IMG_1628.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646058636117245954" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /><div style="text-align: center;">my desk...and "zazu" the bird
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<br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFv2nB4zgwUG90Mo7F3OK4wJODUPlJTEuSlna8nzxKBX487qpQQslhMz1M0Z39T1vOO_W5m4dgbVvXrfB8gJbM6dOWhRlfMoDK_ObHZV1mjljXmZtULDst2vjM9dSsBOw-qqjl/s400/IMG_1559.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646058623325557394" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /><div style="text-align: center;">kid art...things kids give me and/or ask me to hang</div></div><div style="text-align: center;">
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<br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhS8T_CtBFDWLaXKIBz0OndOqbCaUy3_OHPeTGtV6R0hqTvLaFlWAM3J9Juzasnjru6j3Q9z-5__NXSnYxL0SUO4kps9H1gFqdmE_GwEYK-LAKhrf-7MqsygMEsHbqfEORG2VQ/s400/IMG_1684.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646064640840724322" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /><div style="text-align: center;"> can't get enough of this backwards "j"...loved that kid, </div><div style="text-align: center;"> pretty much the cutest 4-year old ever...</div><div>
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<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXkoyKssCuR8nG5KVegE7xEZPDUm_YZlFciZB9EugXnV0AUsYY89cQxLwAKpm6rMkW1qKgs__71Jr26hc1E15WcievRX_1CWn-CsgnBP245in23epmV6dxApBZjDkPHWO9yGyd/s400/g%252C+z%252C+l.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646053480632489186" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ3KIk4DVY9mzCtlC7LnExVYR_crlU7C2hhDMYj0z5GoOsGNjm3ZHyllbsSfPtnxIH8NQZ6vY6dJOm2-msNOWE3iND1QwwHgwT50pPZDLxTNcdv9HcGs56FbQO5u_UEQK4OCGi/s1600/IMG_1771.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWYXLDMxLDV21lK5D-uHdDMsdc56zCJzJyZ5AcPOy9kApRwwxv7KVsrICD3VXkN2ZpJmCDl4d4zeYvXzuxutEXQINxIKE44XE8JuVQYjXbMj96FU826F0D9xgBqgaZdeppK5xv/s1600/IMG_1684.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWYXLDMxLDV21lK5D-uHdDMsdc56zCJzJyZ5AcPOy9kApRwwxv7KVsrICD3VXkN2ZpJmCDl4d4zeYvXzuxutEXQINxIKE44XE8JuVQYjXbMj96FU826F0D9xgBqgaZdeppK5xv/s1600/IMG_1684.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-FJS5EYCMmaJmTfROjdWh05sZAcZZxP1C6W0HUypeXR7NIdUPcgZaQ3U8LSAxeMyuU-Nj2SzaNsbk87eF1WXjxTwBb9zRJXTDu43de9KjY4a82J8CzLS5lR4Ndu_WR8sKu0an/s1600/IMG_1662.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-FJS5EYCMmaJmTfROjdWh05sZAcZZxP1C6W0HUypeXR7NIdUPcgZaQ3U8LSAxeMyuU-Nj2SzaNsbk87eF1WXjxTwBb9zRJXTDu43de9KjY4a82J8CzLS5lR4Ndu_WR8sKu0an/s1600/IMG_1662.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBE-THpEvR6qCK00JNEfIAqD2-namVpDTzOk2nzUtucUs2D5y1asrr5jrM5MSLkI7WOfH0hYzjBwk51Ck23LEpAEqTuHhn0ZfXA_ywEELK3u99mXhpu4h7YeIZT42loIcP5929/s1600/IMG_1645.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBE-THpEvR6qCK00JNEfIAqD2-namVpDTzOk2nzUtucUs2D5y1asrr5jrM5MSLkI7WOfH0hYzjBwk51Ck23LEpAEqTuHhn0ZfXA_ywEELK3u99mXhpu4h7YeIZT42loIcP5929/s1600/IMG_1645.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">client couch and friends ginger, zeke and leo</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ3KIk4DVY9mzCtlC7LnExVYR_crlU7C2hhDMYj0z5GoOsGNjm3ZHyllbsSfPtnxIH8NQZ6vY6dJOm2-msNOWE3iND1QwwHgwT50pPZDLxTNcdv9HcGs56FbQO5u_UEQK4OCGi/s1600/IMG_1771.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}">
<br /></a></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ3KIk4DVY9mzCtlC7LnExVYR_crlU7C2hhDMYj0z5GoOsGNjm3ZHyllbsSfPtnxIH8NQZ6vY6dJOm2-msNOWE3iND1QwwHgwT50pPZDLxTNcdv9HcGs56FbQO5u_UEQK4OCGi/s1600/IMG_1771.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWYXLDMxLDV21lK5D-uHdDMsdc56zCJzJyZ5AcPOy9kApRwwxv7KVsrICD3VXkN2ZpJmCDl4d4zeYvXzuxutEXQINxIKE44XE8JuVQYjXbMj96FU826F0D9xgBqgaZdeppK5xv/s1600/IMG_1684.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWYXLDMxLDV21lK5D-uHdDMsdc56zCJzJyZ5AcPOy9kApRwwxv7KVsrICD3VXkN2ZpJmCDl4d4zeYvXzuxutEXQINxIKE44XE8JuVQYjXbMj96FU826F0D9xgBqgaZdeppK5xv/s1600/IMG_1684.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-FJS5EYCMmaJmTfROjdWh05sZAcZZxP1C6W0HUypeXR7NIdUPcgZaQ3U8LSAxeMyuU-Nj2SzaNsbk87eF1WXjxTwBb9zRJXTDu43de9KjY4a82J8CzLS5lR4Ndu_WR8sKu0an/s1600/IMG_1662.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-FJS5EYCMmaJmTfROjdWh05sZAcZZxP1C6W0HUypeXR7NIdUPcgZaQ3U8LSAxeMyuU-Nj2SzaNsbk87eF1WXjxTwBb9zRJXTDu43de9KjY4a82J8CzLS5lR4Ndu_WR8sKu0an/s1600/IMG_1662.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBE-THpEvR6qCK00JNEfIAqD2-namVpDTzOk2nzUtucUs2D5y1asrr5jrM5MSLkI7WOfH0hYzjBwk51Ck23LEpAEqTuHhn0ZfXA_ywEELK3u99mXhpu4h7YeIZT42loIcP5929/s1600/IMG_1645.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBE-THpEvR6qCK00JNEfIAqD2-namVpDTzOk2nzUtucUs2D5y1asrr5jrM5MSLkI7WOfH0hYzjBwk51Ck23LEpAEqTuHhn0ZfXA_ywEELK3u99mXhpu4h7YeIZT42loIcP5929/s1600/IMG_1645.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ3KIk4DVY9mzCtlC7LnExVYR_crlU7C2hhDMYj0z5GoOsGNjm3ZHyllbsSfPtnxIH8NQZ6vY6dJOm2-msNOWE3iND1QwwHgwT50pPZDLxTNcdv9HcGs56FbQO5u_UEQK4OCGi/s400/IMG_1771.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646061166622181298" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /><div style="text-align: center;">love this lamp...have yet to determine if this is "hank" or "elle"</div><div style="text-align: center;">
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<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBE-THpEvR6qCK00JNEfIAqD2-namVpDTzOk2nzUtucUs2D5y1asrr5jrM5MSLkI7WOfH0hYzjBwk51Ck23LEpAEqTuHhn0ZfXA_ywEELK3u99mXhpu4h7YeIZT42loIcP5929/s1600/IMG_1645.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a></div><div>
<br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXMXrkoS2bV6AKnV_w6pNfiJ-kMgrMWWOfax-9SQ11-3grpX7E8mxUDWw-iqx2ldYGb6pdnkKb3rh0nHsh84_gGNyLkwGR0Rk9kGv6zvkvuW_NbYp2RQDq4ElH4cVbS4hcgAd6/s400/bear.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646053481776946514" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /><div style="text-align: center;">my chair, bookshelf and "bear"...what?! i was out of names, gosh!</div></div><div style="text-align: center;">
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<br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheVVyEwP62VB5lVdYR6MCB4prAjVq1EiXO9hQc1uNFAFbcObfywpKauvSFeRLXFsdwkDSN38IH1mCqiVCMRpigcESvtiHw9doMr8bjS-S2h5VYExaGpORwMBdbMV99Js8Nsbff/s400/IMG_1612.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646058628465819858" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /></div><div>
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<br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg18prseST5lgYUD_W1VUG4UUuImKhSLkehBu8Z6ot_bf5250Q7Z23y1_LHEA8SNWFb_SqbbgutODaIdRhLLPv34tVOR4nXbSC8ru_mJPGJX2SaDdrEdsHiAjMbOI5bmZr3ha5q/s400/IMG_1690.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646061161986207282" /><div style="text-align: center;">love that she got a picture of my shoes on the printer...</div></div><div style="text-align: center;">because i always take my shoes off once the kids and i get started</div><div style="text-align: center;">
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<br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3BqWRaRsl5OfgxGfxApjOI11pTdZ1piBY000A7OAlrclOQfNeIhXT3o8DR4g6h1QhlnCSNdcLgJO8zR1hiewwrZasyP_RZVtjfJJnNfTc3-x6CC4As4aaD-B4K_XIR1b3__sz/s400/wold.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646053485458988306" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /><div style="text-align: center;">best counselor in the "wold?" not sure about that</div></div><div style="text-align: center;">but how do i ever throw this away?!?!</div><div style="text-align: center;">
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<br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAZ2wtCrqN-DRP_rPBpTbBCOUttdxY2eS_KxwRNNKzyNAYyaG7tUw3uhIU7cpqiuEr11aRVwjM9hzrVIuxUAhUJ2quSCWcCKOFgdoZrfhSAZcATrmQhtOhnaDc6SA4Ts3JRtTm/s400/IMG_1625.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646055873370745554" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /></div><div style="text-align: center;">sandtray with Ry</div><div style="text-align: center;">
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<br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHt3yO4kxe7UOjZsTHJcWBRzvm0g72RhXjSfnPkdtKe3h8XSaQY4MACp2yDIu3pGvNF7RlhdXm08kpM7f3xAH10HktGxZL7E3uiU6GQwHlWJJhKtLtnrdgvaaI3lnL6XG_axdI/s400/love+ry.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646056824516716034" style="text-align: left; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /><div style="text-align: center;">tickle time...and look at my wild gypsy skirt??</div></div><div style="text-align: center;">it's pretty intense</div><div style="text-align: center;">
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<br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw6JYNF872Wt-ibkfEh3H7lSJliZpcMiNSSHgj4DGCBCouNwd_z7jXbOYvotmKXEwFOkoZwKAWsMeU6AlYqHATJVFgT4fM9q6Jfln6AD13tQUKvj70yPwKnkgUVXZ5rzARUTrw/s400/princess+r.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646056811180175346" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /><div style="text-align: center;">princess prep...</div></div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkZQxUe8pKZV7R3GJ88Lj8oFWGFYwvSVjS-60WOxLKDr5p682uVDHmIoxyqDfQLk71aYyH_eW_SuPK1yOKPzXSkX0D-3jSYdPHNHmpMRyfsrWt1z-7Z_iDTviOR3QONS0wOlIy/s400/princess+ry.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646056819677037746" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /><div style="text-align: center;">that face...are you kiddin' me?!</div></div><div style="text-align: center;">
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<br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgEl8HDZn1sSGq_Bu5MUSC4IHeo9qaoa4PO3dC_rS7A-dkW4cCWmgLuup5ScAHzVsndnGUh1Yag3k2SinueG0096bFi7JAeTXVSc9I8OZ44QWpUlmPc7RZaQ8KR1JomifzBwYS/s400/j+and+r.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646055880220903810" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /></div><div>
<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >So I might get in trouble for posting the last three...turns out most every photographer feels more comfortable BEHIND that camera than in front of it...and Kathy is no exception. Hard to say how much I love Kath...she is gentle and soft...but fun and spunky. She is an incredible mom who loves her children so much and does such a great job as a mom. I love her and love that she includes me as part of her family...love how welcome I always feel in her home. Love you big, Kath...thanks again for the shoot...and for letting me take a few of you!</span></div><div>
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<br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBE-THpEvR6qCK00JNEfIAqD2-namVpDTzOk2nzUtucUs2D5y1asrr5jrM5MSLkI7WOfH0hYzjBwk51Ck23LEpAEqTuHhn0ZfXA_ywEELK3u99mXhpu4h7YeIZT42loIcP5929/s400/IMG_1645.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646061793585449330" /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD883jZUA5uCuIwyGBe0Dx2p79UJ556Dcwynt5J0DdMb44QfAFCPszIaCfux3gwTNON4cLTa7XQQBEZTz5aexqTbdabY6qXG1h0IMlg7_n3pY8SiW7M8stvo4xK2OcM4MBNlnE/s400/IMG_1661.jpg" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646061796790791906" /><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-FJS5EYCMmaJmTfROjdWh05sZAcZZxP1C6W0HUypeXR7NIdUPcgZaQ3U8LSAxeMyuU-Nj2SzaNsbk87eF1WXjxTwBb9zRJXTDu43de9KjY4a82J8CzLS5lR4Ndu_WR8sKu0an/s400/IMG_1662.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646061787185684546" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /></div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36079996.post-21367620700773928132011-08-07T20:06:00.004-07:002011-08-07T20:34:46.837-07:00A+ and Stuff<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivJxYQQCO7ao3cieoBCiVb-9C7CTO8HqfDOc4tZQXENXUWaInTIDqL15zAKAhavmU1AYI8MtrPjrTrstQXtj81-PSzuSSwOzyzNdx6kJzx67EyloCO5OzzQXjyY-np4gtG0XW_/s1600/a%252B.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 228px; height: 221px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivJxYQQCO7ao3cieoBCiVb-9C7CTO8HqfDOc4tZQXENXUWaInTIDqL15zAKAhavmU1AYI8MtrPjrTrstQXtj81-PSzuSSwOzyzNdx6kJzx67EyloCO5OzzQXjyY-np4gtG0XW_/s400/a%252B.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638317015351271218" /></a>I survived online traffic school. It took 4 hours. There was no way to speed it up. I may now be suffering from post-traumatic traffic teaching time. (Sounds serious, right?) It's not yet in the DSM...but should be. The page has a designated amount of time you HAVE to have it open before moving on...usually 2 minutes longer than I needed to read the material. Luckily I was able to catch up in the world of Facebook and email in the interim.<div><br /></div><div>I am pleased to say I did not miss one quiz question and on the final exam I missed only one:"Question: If you do not pass this exam you can...." Duh, I wasn't planning on not passing so I didn't even consider that option...or get that question right. That miss brought me down to a 96%. Still, I'll take it. For a person with a possible case of severe ADHD, a 96% on a 4-hour deal is acceptable. </div><div><br /></div><div>I did learn a few valuable things. But I still feel that I am, in my heart, a race car driver who is in serious need of an upgrade (while the fuel-efficient Corolla is an economical choice, it lacks much when it comes to power...which may be...a good thing for me right now...). In heaven I hope there is a place for people to drive as fast as they want...with NO motocops or photo ticket cameras. The Celestial Autobahn. Admit it, you're interested.</div><div><br /></div><div>In the meanwhile, I'm back to being hypervigilant ....boo.</div><div><br /></div><div>In other news....it's hot here. I'm sure you've heard. It makes me laugh that the weather app on my phone says "Hot" up to 108 and jumps to "very hot" around 109. Really? Because I thought 108 was feeling hot-ish.</div><div><br /></div><div>Work is good, However, I am in desperate need of tax advice...any of you readers out there savvy about small business tax rules? If so, email me, I'd love to ask you a few questions.</div><div><br /></div><div>Church is now at 8 am. Which means Sundays are now a long day. Love it. I love being out by 11 am...</div><div><br /></div><div>Last tidbits:</div><div><br /></div><div>-I have gotten addicted to the flat bread option at Subway...who knew my love for Subway would ever return after the summers of 1990-1998 when we ate there daily. (Rand, Lindsay...someone confirm that this was also your reality?!?)</div><div><br /></div><div>-I recently went to Flagstaff for a training. While there I bought a mood ring, which is such a Flagstaff-y thing to buy. But I gotta say, for $2.95, it's putting everything Claire's has ever offered to shame. I realize I'm about 23 years too old for a mood ring. But since when has that stopped me? And...let's be honest, my therapy kids are gonna eat it up. </div><div><br /></div><div>-Speaking of therapy kids...favorite moment of last week was when a cute 3-yr old boy was dunking Green Lantern, Superman and Spiderman in "sand quick." Love that he calls it that.</div><div><br /></div><div>-I am exuding every last ounce of restraint and REALLY developing my restraint while waiting til October to get a new phone...I'll be up for a new one then and also praying iPhone 5 happens to be out then. I'm not holding my breath though...If Apple products weren't so amazing, I'd totally boycott them for the way they jerk us around... My sissy Droid works about 62% of the time so if you're ever talking to me and then suddenly...you're not...do not blame my <i>possible</i> ADHD...rather, just call me back...in about October.</div><div><br /></div><div>I believe that is all. Carry on.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36079996.post-87630832849749774452011-07-25T21:48:00.002-07:002011-07-25T21:58:37.918-07:00For The Love...Bad News Folks. July 12th marked the end of an era. Which era, you ask? Well, the one wherein I was a noble, upstanding citizen with ZERO traffic violations. (Lasted 33 months, which I feel is commendable).<div><br /></div><div>Yeah. Photo ticket. What kills me is that I was on the way to the temple...the day before I was leaving town for 10 days...and I was debating going because I had to so much to do. Apparently I had so much to do that I decided to possibly (okay, fine, undeniably...photo evidence) run a red light. Which is a pretty big (big=expensive) deal in Arizona...because I think AZ is the red-light running capital of the world. I swear to you I broke the plane prior to the light turning red...and I know all about "breaking the plane" from back in 2008 when I used to speed and had to go to traffic school. So. Luckily I can do online defensive driving school for a mere $200. For the love. Let that be a lesson friends...if you go to the temple...go SLOWLY.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now...on with happy news...these are the things for which I am grateful today:</div><div><br /></div><div>1-living 5 minutes from work and being able to come home for lunch</div><div>2-having had the opportunity to hike Havasupai (pictures to come)</div><div>3-things going well in private practice (yeah, I started one...need to write about that one day)</div><div>4-for new friends who make life fun</div><div>5-for living in a place where I get to wear flip flops pretty much year round. LUCKY!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36079996.post-77888425732287633632011-05-06T10:30:00.008-07:002011-05-06T23:56:10.795-07:00Fair vs. Not Fair<span style="font-family:georgia;">Sitting here...attempting to work on my gospel doctrine lesson. It is amazing that I always have 3 weeks to prepare and still end up doing it Friday or Saturday. I am usually thinking about it for all of 3 weeks, but just have to sit down and focus to "finish" it. It's the "focus" part that I usually get stuck on...no big surprise there...<br /><br />I am not at my house tonight...watching a good friend's children today and tomorrow. Adorable blonde-haired, blue-eyed little wonders...almost 3 and 5...tonight included several rounds of "Don't Break the Ice," dinner, a t-ball game where big brother did fantastic and I learned that little brother is pretty impressive at throwing and catching a ball. Then bath time...snuggle time, stories and songs. I always hope they won't ask for singing because their mom has an amazing voice...and...well...mine is...just pretty average. But when they DID ask for songs tonight, I thought maybe if I mixed it up and sang in Spanish, that would present enough of a distraction...kind of worked. The youngest is especially intrigued with Spanish and as I sing, I laugh and imagine this fair-skinned, blue-eyed, chubby-cheeked cherub playing amid a big group of brown-skinned, dark haired, Spanish speaking kids his age...and the image always makes me smile. Love these boys, love how they talk, how they laugh...how the youngest says "Guess what, Julie?" to begin most every sentence and the oldest is so dang smart and always crumples his eyebrows together and tilts his head slightly right before he asks big questions. When I am with these kids (and many of the children in my life...clients, nieces and nephews, children of my friends)...I am usually thinking "I don't think I could love them any more, even if they were my own... Just adore them.<br /><br />Which leads to me (in a long way) to my point...as I am spending time with these adorable boys and just eating them up...my brain and heart are kind of tangled up in some news I got earlier this week that I can't seem to figure out.<br /><br />A sister from my mission passed away. At 32. She and I did not serve as companions, but I knew, loved and admired her. She was always positive, always kind, so easy to love. An excellent missionary and just an incredibly genuine person. And as I read comments so many have made on her facebook page and on her family blog in the last week...I keep thinking... "No, no, no, no no...32 year old mothers do not die." Especially when they have adorable children...ages 2, 4 and 6 who are captured in a "messy-hair, ginormous smile christmas morning picture" that hurts me to see-those faces...so innocent. Especially when the darling, gentle, soft and fun mom has a happy family and a great relationship with her husband...and a baby growing in her womb. No, no, no, no, no.<br /><br />I have not met her husband or her children but I keep seeing the faces of clients I have had over the years who have lost parents or siblings...their grief...how hard/sacred/amazing that work is...with these gentle kids who ask questions such as "Well, I just don't get why Jesus got resurrected but my dad didn't. That isn't fair." And all I could say to the 6-year old that day was "You're right, it isn't fair at all right now."<br /><br />It isn't fair that this sweet 32-year old mother's little 4-year old girl has already stated her concern that dad won't be able to do her hair like mom does it. And he won't. But what chokes me up is knowing that he will really try.<br /><br />Life. Isn't. Fair.<br /><br />It's not fair that some mothers who adore their children and the sacred role of motherhood die way too soon and others who find their children to be just a burden...live forever. It isn't fair that teenage girls get pregnant accidentally when grown women and their husbands ache over years of infertility. It isn't fair that there are kids in foster care who did nothing to deserve that kind of childhood. It isn't fair that my brain is full of details and stories from lives of my clients (from "tiny, tiny barely 3-years old and still in diapers" clients...to adults who have lived through some pretty amazing and difficult stuff)...details that I cannot share because I don't want them rattling around in anyone else's brain. It isn't fair that Ken, the man who has lived on the street corner near the agency I worked at for 3 years, is homeless. It isn't fair that I have wanted to be a mom since I was 3 and almost 30 years later...have not yet had that privilege. It isn't fair that my dear friend is on her 11th round of chemo and still has more to go. (Although, in some ways, it is very fair...that she is fighting this and that while still there is still a ways to go...things appear to really be heading in the right direction...so grateful for this).<br /><br />But...it also isn't "fair" that I have a large group of amazing friends and family to whom I am very connected. It isn't "fair" that I get paid to do a job that I would (most days) do for free because of how much I love the work...when others have been unemployed for months or years. It isn't fair that I have the gospel of Jesus Christ that gives my life such purpose and direction when others all over the world are struggling to find answers to questions that don't bother me. Many friends of mine have expressed that it isn't fair that I could take a long, un-interrupted nap on the weekend. And to them I say "Yes, but it isn't fair that you get to wake up to bed-head snuggly toddlers whose lives and hearts revolve around you..."<br /><br />So...I hope that "fair" comes to the family and children of my sweet friend who passed away this week...I hope that as they grieve the losses of their mom/wife/daughter/sister as well as their tiny baby sister/daughter/grand-daughter/niece, they are comforted beyond what is "fair." I hope math is easy for all three of those kids and that the 4-year old little girl has hair that is never tangly. I hope family and friends living near them do not stop offering support after the first 6 months and that many "moms" help to raise those kids.<br /><br />And maybe, I hope that I can keep remembering that there really is no such thing as "fair." Life is full of experiences, blessings and trials. And as one of my close friends always says "life is a long time..." I know that fair isn't something we experience in this life. "Fair"...however, is what comes in the next....when everything is unraveled and we are able to understand the things that never made sense down here...and we are blessed with more than we deserve....all of us.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36079996.post-49381782120212363822011-04-13T18:08:00.012-07:002011-04-13T20:33:02.625-07:00To get to the other side...<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKav-wOPDuxOyc4a8od6yfG8cnroJEhe5cvbVpUYdHT_2jGskr6Km6nr7bG-Ssrkf5-gABQO6NoJ4goXsouhrMJVpd9uYtwaK0zmOSUxWgl9g_VYXpqi1zGJ5VqYdh3K2hgWeT/s1600/Mr.+Friendly.JPG"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595256552022634866" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKav-wOPDuxOyc4a8od6yfG8cnroJEhe5cvbVpUYdHT_2jGskr6Km6nr7bG-Ssrkf5-gABQO6NoJ4goXsouhrMJVpd9uYtwaK0zmOSUxWgl9g_VYXpqi1zGJ5VqYdh3K2hgWeT/s400/Mr.+Friendly.JPG" /></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"> Actual photo of Speedy* </span><span style="font-size:85%;">(*not his actual name) </span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;">This morning I was about (or exactly) 2.85 miles into my run when I came across a surprising sight. There in the gutter was a turtle...and this turtle appeared to be attempting to cross the road. Problem was...it a was a busy road. Little guy would stick his head out slowly, and wait...and after a few cars would pass and there was a lull in the traffic, he'd start to stick his legs out...and just as his toes (turtles do have them-I'm pretty sure) would touch the ground, a car would come whipping by and he'd pull all appendages back inside. And then it would all start over. </span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;">I watched for the first few minutes intrigued. Then I watched for the next few minutes because I was grateful to be stopped running...and my heart rate was returning to normal and I wondered if I cared about the turtle or just wanted an excuse to be done running... and for the next 2 minutes I was angry at the turtle for wanting to go THAT way because he had 3 other directions to walk in that would not most likely cause his tragic death. It was a narrow road, and as cars came by, several almost clipped him...especially the time his head was all the way out. </span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;">By now, my run is pretty much over and my attention has now shifted to thoughts on the peril of this little guy and wondering what my rights and responsibilities are to this tiny reckless reptile. (I was only in cub scouts for a few months, so we didn't get to that chapter in the book that spells out first aid for turtles, but I bet it's in there). I wanted to talk him into going the other way, but then I thought "maybe turtles are like horses or dogs...or other animals that know where they live..." "and what if some 6-yr old kid is crying that his beloved "speedy" has been missing for 8 days...and his mom isn't sure how to tell him<span style="color:#000000;"> Speedy's</span> probably...well, not coming home... and is considering taking him to the pet store after school today to get a new one but maybe not because turtles really are so stinky" (yes, that IS how my brain works...welcome to the Inner Workings).</span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;">ANYWAY...as I'm watching Speedy...he gets a crazy streak of Brave and sticks out head and arms/legs (are they all legs? even the front ones? again, thanks for nothing Webelos...) in one bold move and moves about a quarter of an inch closer towards the other side of the road...and is not mostly out of the gutter and in the street. At this precise moment, a car that was definitely speeding came by and if Turtle would have been one second slower, I'd have witnessed a terrible turtle decapitation before my very eyes. It was at the moment I decided to take action, and since Speedy was now (luckily) safely inside his shell, I picked him up and walked him over the other side of the road...set him near the bushes on the safe side of the sidewalk. He was nice and didn't scratch or bite me or whatever turtles might be capable of doing to well-meaning but invited movers...and I set him down and told him to be free...and to "go THAT WAY, dummy!!!" </span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;">He stayed in his shell and I waited for a while watching him... until I realized I really needed to get going...but hoped he would make better transportation choices in the future. Like...mostly, not running away from home. We had a little heart-to-heart...and I went home.</span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;">About 1.4 minutes after arriving home, I decided to go back to take his picture. When I got back, I couldn't find him for a minute and thought, "If I just got outrun by a &%$^ turtle, I'm gonna kill myself." Relax reader, no turtle or human will die today...he was there all along. I snapped a few pictures...and you will see that for a turtle who just got his life saved, he sure doesn't look very grateful... And I especially enjoyed that after two photos, he suddenly popped out of his shell and started sprinting (in turtle time) away from me...like he was gonna "make a run for it," as if I was gonna hurt him after all that. For the love, turtle. You need therapy.</span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 312px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595254783955767234" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnzgLQCQPl14xZ-hAQPHmvBtprtrMpWGXiZQmfNkyapfo-B1xsNUwZM2aR_uZ9mS9mPIe1GgzzN_F2wyzddXdrYiOREE_yd697Js-bOvmvjUNr2aMzi9nCicLP-SLjhFODAQ8W/s320/turtle1.JPG" /> <br /><p align="center"></span><span style="font-size:130%;">See, not very friendly, right?! </span></p><br /><p align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;">Anyway. I don't know what happened to turtle. I'm pretending he's at home happily eating...lettuce and resting in safe cage with 6-yr old Billy's face glued to the glass. I'm prolly not gonna drive on that street for a while for fear that he maybe got crazy and walked back out the other way...and...well, you know.</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;">But I did think about him all day...and (cue the music where the moral of the story comes in...you know the kind)...I was thinking that we are a lot like turtles. (Well, when it comes to running, some of us are even MORE like turtles than others). Sometimes we have a plan of where we think we need to go...and sometimes...it's a pretty terrible and dangerous idea...but we can't see that because we lack perspective. But...Heavenly Father...he doesn't. He gets it...and sees when we're about to make a choice that could figuratively flatten us. Sometimes he snatches us...and takes us to safety or has others down here do it for Him. And sometimes, even after He has saved us...we try to "make a run for it" to get away from Him, thinking He is the danger...or the enemy. We book it away and he probably smiles at our "turtle sprinting" and is thinking "I can see you no matter how fast or far you run, so when you're tired of running, I'll still be here..." <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595254774569996722" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQarFE32BKcE-26sBDshFmCN1jVe4RKDCtSMB_zVCi417x0vh4tgxtfy2JOP-NhrxLy-03h2s68Qkow6aBqZVhtqJjdc9auWw2KBvbOD-vICMOYyEFCfRnWOni1PAZCffcG_aZ/s320/The+getaway.JPG" /> So. Now. Bless Speedy for providing a story for Sunday's gospel doctrine lesson and a post topic for me for today. And I guess for providing a reminder that I was probably needing...</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36079996.post-78362144381844285402011-01-24T16:36:00.010-07:002011-01-24T17:42:37.131-07:00Beat It...<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">Sometimes when people haven't blogged for a long time, they start off with "I'm sorry I haven't written for so long." I've done it in the past, but honestly, I resolve to not say that anymore because this is MY blog after all, and I'm the boss of it. So if you're offended...you can go peruse the blogs of other more faithful bloggers...It's 2011 and I'm taking charge. Or something. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">But...you're online reading blogs right now...so you're probably either NOT busy or avoiding things you really NEED to do. Which makes me feel okay about what I'm about to write.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">First. I grew up in a musical home. Well, let me rephrase that. I begged to take piano lessons, and then begged harder to stop taking them. I took voice lessons for a while and liked them for the most part but there were....complications which I shall not here explain. My mom had a very cool player that rotated and played about 300 CDs...and it was on most all the time (as I remember). I loved music from age 3 when I got my first fisher-price record player that played 4 primary-colored plastic "records." And I had one heckuva dance routine for Neil Diamond's "Heartlight" song not to mention my smooth moves for "Footloose." I was ahead of my time...sigh. </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">My friend Anita tells me when I sing to her every time she says a word that triggers a song (which is about 39 times a day, on average): "Julesy, the music is in you." And I smile and agree.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">But today when I was running and singing along, I heard myself sing "shorty hot pocket...da da da da...it doesn't matter who's wrong or right" and then start to question the veracity (and possibility) of those lyrics. So I came home and googled the lyrics to "Beat It," by our dear Michael. Turns out...he's actually saying "showin' how funky strong is your fight, it doesn't matter who's wrong or right." I was close. Sorry Michael. (But seriously...showin' how funky strong is your fight??!?!" Really? That's not much more impressive than Shorty Hot Pocket, just sayin'...).</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">This isn't the first time the lyrics I sing are devastatingly different than what the artist intended. Like for instance:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">"I've been through the desert on a horse with no MANE," is really "horse with no name," but honestly, both versions are just weird. (Imagine me as a 7-yr old wondering what I'd hold onto if there were no mane...because of course...a saddle and reigns were out of the question...in keeping true to the spirit of freedom the song portrays...).</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">And...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">"she ain't heaven...she's my mother..." turns out to be "he ain't heavy, he's my brother." (Took a LOT of ridicule when my mom and the lady for whom I was baby-sitting that day (my dear Jan...still love you and if you still read this, I want your email address) tag-teamed teased me on that one). You both should be ashamed, I was just a kid. ;)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">So...have spent much of today laughing about "shorty hot pocket." I am awesome. It's a fun time in my brain. Anita is right, the music <strong>is</strong> in me. Unfortunately, sometimes the lyrics are not...</span><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565911733480264722" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghYK5-O82qRKbrI_MjFcMFgELrktxcDVxkMdDXrZOJkN8WapVOPPKkMy7n-Vb1-liV-yDAtbsQwwLjZfpJ7ZQMHj00s06khM7vT8Ia8koD6jn1OL80-r-xXbwVWIm8TslQesnR/s200/hot+pocket.jpg" />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36079996.post-28100673755650581652010-11-16T19:00:00.000-07:002010-11-16T23:06:45.904-07:00Grateful for...Amazing Grace<p align="center"><br /><object style="BACKGROUND-IMAGE: url(http://i1.ytimg.com/vi/PIQl6ygRqhw/hqdefault.jpg)" width="480" height="295"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/PIQl6ygRqhw?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/PIQl6ygRqhw?fs=1&hl=en_US" width="480" height="295" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></p><br /><p align="center">This is one of my all-time favorite songs...</p><br /><p align="center">and hearing from a 7-year old...</p><br /><p align="center">kind of...amazing.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36079996.post-91762664657828802682010-11-15T21:08:00.007-07:002010-11-15T21:18:36.445-07:00Grateful for...Emily<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539995442271663442" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY5_7oPa8evUaxisqIC-L82P36-TY9MheO6oLVyzDTrXNg1R3F3SQvRQek_UPkDYIVua8z1nuTIPODDASsaX1A0wQMKqLb3EGMDG5BKq1yaIMxcu7YRGrnpv2rAyWviPZjypqQ/s400/cute+em" />I stole this picture from Kim's blog...this is my darling niece Emily. I can't get enough of this cute picture and the fact that almost every picture I have of her looks like this...darling smile with one eye shut because it's....just...too...bright. Darling girl.<br /><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVul5o_uXpAKxRSfA-rXyxapk4sI74T7iOBXqeqPL0wqXJvgoBZ-1DAvyCT-Z7YB4SVX-9KlK_J8-hHHq5jh7xGAxZc8YC3d5dOVe9L6dxny7T-OoVHZ8om_hDMY14o8ll-6mc/s1600/Camera+Phone+june-july+2010+109.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539996084143070274" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVul5o_uXpAKxRSfA-rXyxapk4sI74T7iOBXqeqPL0wqXJvgoBZ-1DAvyCT-Z7YB4SVX-9KlK_J8-hHHq5jh7xGAxZc8YC3d5dOVe9L6dxny7T-OoVHZ8om_hDMY14o8ll-6mc/s200/Camera+Phone+june-july+2010+109.jpg" /></a></p><p align="center">Trying... </p><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDmSlW0uB9YRVIJ-jtwL6l11s4Z4Dbu3nzUSWN6OJ3jA0TsHnDmaOw2W5JzUXnrgtbRi3VqH9mBcCyYcHsVcO_SFwjk4ZRyI8JiqhPhLqZ0vp63VuX0zNZlKezafyAMrVJ4mv-/s1600/Camera+Phone+june-july+2010+110.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539996088011792322" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDmSlW0uB9YRVIJ-jtwL6l11s4Z4Dbu3nzUSWN6OJ3jA0TsHnDmaOw2W5JzUXnrgtbRi3VqH9mBcCyYcHsVcO_SFwjk4ZRyI8JiqhPhLqZ0vp63VuX0zNZlKezafyAMrVJ4mv-/s200/Camera+Phone+june-july+2010+110.jpg" /></a></p><p align="center">Way too bright...</p><p><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBZWqg-K_GRIVLZA5_hezYK6kyzPVjIDe09TTAF4t2hj5Sprg-kwAnycOZXSF8FkwijtkJ_cleFx0BQMDbB16ZYXmCcbREUoGvu9pKb-f52My2fLh8L5yi4rPpSZw17euJXudP/s1600/Camera+Phone+june-july+2010+112.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539996097433393602" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBZWqg-K_GRIVLZA5_hezYK6kyzPVjIDe09TTAF4t2hj5Sprg-kwAnycOZXSF8FkwijtkJ_cleFx0BQMDbB16ZYXmCcbREUoGvu9pKb-f52My2fLh8L5yi4rPpSZw17euJXudP/s200/Camera+Phone+june-july+2010+112.jpg" /></a></p><p align="center">Aunt Jules gets smart...<br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36079996.post-37144943284864184292010-11-05T15:08:00.003-07:002010-11-05T23:56:41.440-07:00Grateful for...Friends and Stuff<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU6vt8yjjhxG8RLew4DcPQl29_3I0WPsSqVqdbdQxRe81dvHkSIqpmPvHNa1x7kg90cHiV9LalG3Pg3ZCqq4wUP9ApLyW5zgXwFPUgCCDa8Lp-xhjvBlm86DP-AHry6tU4SU_U/s1600/happy+life.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 141px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535933933426851746" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU6vt8yjjhxG8RLew4DcPQl29_3I0WPsSqVqdbdQxRe81dvHkSIqpmPvHNa1x7kg90cHiV9LalG3Pg3ZCqq4wUP9ApLyW5zgXwFPUgCCDa8Lp-xhjvBlm86DP-AHry6tU4SU_U/s200/happy+life.jpg" /></a>so. the thing is, sometimes life is just so good. a miracle didn't happen, i didn't win a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">bajillion</span> dollars, i don't have a new boyfriend, i still do not run 7-minute miles, and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">i'm</span> not yet at my goal weight...and my hair still sometimes decides to be curly when <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">i've</span> declared it a NOT curly day.<br /><br /><br />BUT...i do have amazing friends. like "too good to be true" friends. some i see often, some i see very rarely, but i am just lucky. i have friends who think deeply and laugh with me about "<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">reeeee</span>-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">diculous</span>" happenings and friends whose darling babies call me "<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">jew</span>-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">ee</span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">blayo</span>" or wink at me from their booster seats. (are you KIDDING ME...that was for sure a highlight of the year...darling <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">blond</span> big brother responding with a silent and oh-so-adorable <em>wink</em> and half-smile<em> </em>instead of a hello when i got in the car and said hi to him!). friends who live in <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">utah</span> and have darling children who sing "happy birthday dear <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">jules</span>" at <strong>everyone <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error">else's</span></strong> birthday party for months after <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-error">jules</span>' birthday passes.<br /><br />i have a little sister whose cats "text" me on a regular basis and crack me up with their humor which is remarkably similar to that of their owner/mother, i have big sisters who teach me about hair, jewelry, shopping, boys and the importance of being grateful for the opportunity in my life at present to sleep (and go to the bathroom/read/shower/do <strong>anything</strong> without interruption from darling children) as much as i want. i have old friends that are so easy to be with and talk to, and new friends that i can't get enough of.<br /><br />i have a job i really love. i live 2 blocks from sprouts where they sell the best apples (and produce in general) in the world. i own a bike and a car. i get to hike most every <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-error">saturday</span> all winter long. i have lunch every workday with a co-worker and friend that i adore...who keeps me sane, makes me laugh and is such an incredible sounding board for things both clinical and personal. i have 9 adorable nieces and nephews, including brand-new baby twin nephews and another new nephew...all of whom <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-error">i'll</span> get to meet in just a few weeks. i am friends with <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" class="blsp-spelling-error">nutella</span>. i have almost mastered consistency in tricking my dying toaster into actually toasting (not CHARRING) my bread...<span style="font-size:78%;">setting 2 and 3/4<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" class="blsp-spelling-error">ths</span></span>). my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_17" class="blsp-spelling-error">webelos</span> are all on track, the church is still true, i survived teaching my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_18" class="blsp-spelling-error">isaiah</span> lessons and i am sleeping in flannel sheets. life is good.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36079996.post-53032984484740890272010-11-04T23:21:00.000-07:002010-11-04T22:18:55.781-07:00Grateful for...flannel sheets.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9NU6bmRaGAqUe-SdNBWXIlfTbBDY9MFarbMzIJuonG8Uv3GndSMfXqAiAP6YDcM9XljacNmeZHcbHgnaF1HkGnhpQNgk1K1iyxcXZOVG18X2x015zAKi1qODTw1BrgVEUXkJ9/s1600/flannel+sheets.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535930319756813842" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9NU6bmRaGAqUe-SdNBWXIlfTbBDY9MFarbMzIJuonG8Uv3GndSMfXqAiAP6YDcM9XljacNmeZHcbHgnaF1HkGnhpQNgk1K1iyxcXZOVG18X2x015zAKi1qODTw1BrgVEUXkJ9/s400/flannel+sheets.jpg" /></a>I am absolutely certain that flannel is the official textile of heaven. My mom teases me for sleeping in flannel sheets when I'm wearing flannel pants...she says "Do you get stuck in there?!?! It's like the old flannel boards for <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">FHE</span> from forever ago." It's a tricky thing...living in Arizona when I have such an affinity for flannel. But, dear reader, do not fret, I have figured out how to manage at least 6 months of flannel time here... AND the good news is that Utah for me is flannel YEAR-ROUND...especially because my parent's basement is about as cold as a cave...in <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Antarctica</span>...which makes for great sleeping...cold, cold room...flannel sheets and tons of blankets... Best. Thing. Ever.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36079996.post-87419211823223162612010-11-03T17:21:00.005-07:002010-11-03T17:49:46.471-07:00Grateful for...Health<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPHkoTkp3-P-F5W6gmkGqoE5mCU8mHe3n93qOdpBYpKgraiC2PWzIEA9zzTUTU4U8Vfup5mFc3xf5RWNgnKoJdAu6pRBU8NlQ6LwNuU3h2my1lcwCr-eApP_j76zwVxq3-EzZy/s1600/health.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535490061888939762" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPHkoTkp3-P-F5W6gmkGqoE5mCU8mHe3n93qOdpBYpKgraiC2PWzIEA9zzTUTU4U8Vfup5mFc3xf5RWNgnKoJdAu6pRBU8NlQ6LwNuU3h2my1lcwCr-eApP_j76zwVxq3-EzZy/s200/health.jpg" /></a>Today after my run at the gym, I noticed that a firetruck with flashing lights had just pulled up. I wondered what had happened. As I made my way towards the dressing room, I saw a woman lying on the ground with three <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">EMTs</span> around her, beginning to work on her. She did not look conscious and someone standing near them was giving them information about what had happened.<br /><div><div></div><br /><div></div><div> </div><div>I noticed that the lady was of about the same build and size that I once was and I wondered if this event would make her forever scared to come to the gym, with worry that this could happen again. Found myself praying that she'd be okay, that she'd be able to get help and grow stronger and healthier. And that she wouldn't be afraid to come back to the gym.</div><br /><div></div><div></div><div>About 10 minutes before seeing her, I had been thinking "Man, I'm tired today...I really kind of wanted to get 7 or 8 miles in but 6 is gonna have to do today...geez...lame. So that means tomorrow I'll have to run another 4 or 5...and Friday I'll have to run 3 or 4...and how will that affect my hike Saturday?" I was annoyed at myself...and then things changed after seeing the woman laying on the floor at the gym...a woman who could very easily have been me a few years ago. Because for most of my life, running a mile seemed impossible...and running 6 on regular basis felt inconceivable. </div><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>Suddenly I became very aware of my gratitude for my health and the blessing of having a body that can do so many things. I remembered having attended a fireside where one of the contestants who had been on The Biggest Loser was a speaker...and he was telling about his experiences on the show. He spoke about how he related his exercise then to repentance...that it was so hard, so painful then...because in a way he was "repenting" for all that he had done to his body. Because the neglect had been so bad, the "fixing" was very hard. Interesting concept. Sometimes I have days where I feel like I'm on a "repentance run"...like for instance after Halloween when I'm realizing that eating enough fun-size "somethings"=a run that feels not "fun-sized."</div><br /><div></div><div>So...bottom line. <span style="font-size:78%;">(Sher, you love it when I get to the bottom line, right?)</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> While I have more work to do and want to continue to take good care of my body and treat it well, I am grateful for the health I have today. I'm grateful that hiking this year feels easier than last and that I feel more confident and excited to try bigger and harder things. I know that having a body is a gift....one that today, I feel especially grateful to have.</span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36079996.post-79913351709992916832010-11-01T23:07:00.000-07:002010-11-01T23:30:13.038-07:00Grateful for...Megan and Rachelle.<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 190px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534833842291797602" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPKgEDn89SZlrReaHeuqVLtL2RAL0-vv71ZR8XN1UvkWqV8mLJ5DcfrxvPfVquQZ9dTzwZ94FwHLfQFMeiSGRbS2K_lvym87Mc20c9WkDurRyO5S9acAl1RS0B5Sw0-uhZsylW/s400/MJR+at+temple+grounds.JPG" /> This month I'm going to try to post more frequently...focusing on the things/people I'm grateful for. First...my roommates...Megan and Rachelle. Love them. Love that Rachelle talks to herself and that I've learned to distinguish the "I'm talking to you Jules" voice vs. the "to myself or to my sandwich" voice. Love that Megan teaches kindergarten and loves kids like crazy (you know you're with a teacher when your hike involves stopping to pick up and take home 30 rocks). Love that we are all independant and do our own thing but that when we're together we have so much fun. Love that Rachelle speaks Spanish and that Megan loves to hike. Love that their motto is "We Do Hard Things." Love that they love health and exercise but also can sit at the kitchen table and laugh while we share whatever treat one of us has acquired. Love that they both love me even though we've concluded that it is I who seems to have a problem slamming cupboard doors (especially if it is while they happen to both be sleeping)...good news, I am working on this-I'd say I'm 79% improved. Love that they are sisters but include me in what they do, including family parties, etc. Love that we "get" each other. Love that they don't judge me for having a perpetually cluttered bedroom...which I generally attribute (falsely) to its size (yes, it is exactly 10x10).<br /><br />Love that when Megan asked if we could go take pictures at the new temple site I complained...asked to reschedule twice...and when we actually went and did it tonight, I acted about as difficult as I usually do (see below for photo evidence) when my mom attempts the "family picture" thing. (See Mom, don't feel bad, it's not just for you).<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 212px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534830917113231234" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh719ApaLUX_wkNWnZynVr8NIvQBi0Ln9Z4dmqyfklk7QvIaau8tR0yzJ90A_DNzGNHfP78D08ru1SbsVdpH_0HkBq1LVwIheZ8oliJ57Vsfk3OFrPOBUqVhSLUWelmQ41-ri9/s320/the+truth.JPG" />As we were standing there in that dirt (<span style="font-size:78%;">and I was embarrassed at the traffic that I was SURE was wondering why all the mormons were lining up on a Sunday afternoon to take pictures of a dirt field, not unlike many other dirt fields in the city</span>)...As we laughed and teased (<span style="font-size:78%;">okay, and had fun...) </span>I was thinking "these two really are my "family" here and I love them..." and then I got a little sad realizing that I won't always be living with them.<br /><br /><div><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 158px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534834374723923218" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg37EOjZ4rq5i6X9fUnN4zVoDHzz1F-Zgp6WyvNlAsiCOgD7mkn1Wb4UrF-LuADqNIgV9o65kuLz8SbP__OOxqpUW4ipG4NhB_r4W5QotlpHxWlkJuDztQKmnbO_xtRlhUpTOny/s320/From+Megan+372.JPG" /> <div><div><div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 169px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534831355417040674" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjui5u9wkN0e1lzDwfw5uqYPPTR4Bcf9MlT2fXF6MQVeC7diTV7a3kkVxpEOijxnKZClNUkNH7bY4xS_SfP_y8aoSQUgybu0lJyJXuPQAoOxaaPJFzqrUeUmBi8rqyV7Fqsh90j/s320/Pana.JPG" /> So. I'm grateful for living with two sisters who feel like my sisters...grateful that our home is peaceful and that despite the less-than-ideal circumstances for us all...we are absolutely...a family.<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 250px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534833153720211186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggKEGIL6vRnMRelq16icLYnPqU4SgROfINlW1rybFmS0OIfjWwwI9SMnTZ6hlSYuRZorCPyb1afT1VfBsDL1lDYzM1lu02LRVqVV_kdYn6OAGDReR_4jRo369HtAE6SE3ro9Po/s320/MJR.JPG" /></div></div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36079996.post-23647638205675748672010-10-31T22:21:00.010-07:002010-11-01T09:18:55.720-07:00Happy Halloween<p align="justify">Fun weekend. Megan and I set up a face-painting booth at the annual ward party. We were a big hit. We'd ask the kids "Do you want a ghost, pumpkin or a spider?" But apparently these kids know how to think for themselves. When one little boy said "Can I have a transformer?" I said "No problem, I'll give you one that is in "spider mode." Worked like a charm. Megan mastered the spider web, while mine looked much more like a wheel.<br /></p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534450018206101714" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDqEQBo4-QK2j1WIjKPC_ijh26i8YwXMlUx4RNDPhKPZsB7TwKJHzs1WSKZUbrHbRHs5Yln4YXF0dH7vme9i61BtkFKWvESukPfScHa31FIHHrJS4sr0-dhyYR1NzeESZ6FeTK/s320/Ladybug.JPG" />Was pretty proud of the mini-ladybug on the ladybug...very cute, right? I did some pretty stellar butterflies as well. However, Megan's skill level quickly exceeded my own and I got my feelings hurt when two 8-yr olds came to examine my work (at that moment, was painting a ghost)...the one little girl pointed to Megan and said while walking away from my side of the table: "Yeah, let's go to her, she's better." I wanted to say "HEY!! I'm sitting right here, I totally heard that! And Fine! See if I care! Did you see the ladybug?!?! I painted her face..." Don't worry, I walked it off.. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534457298333627778" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmczK8gYrmutu9hsMeBYFY2Ypkw3S1ptw1aa7p7Uc2SwIbXDZTtE45aLQiTxN45-PN5dxi0VqGBsownZtwVkBfmMViG43J4Ob7MKr1lKIqWVux_6OxIolxE1CuECQtzNDZpptD/s320/andrew.JPG" /> <p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">Peter Pan/Andrew, my friend's little boy. Affectionately known as "Baby," and adored by every human who lays eyes on him. Adorable kid, even cuter personality...love him.</span></p><br /><p align="left"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 166px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534454045154724482" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl8LPKv6HZ1eZySXXRD74wIfTqWDjYJrOc9m-JdohV2MbHG_S9IA_mqpoyJHLSAYRSivkUkHKH_oUWS36m51uiAZ-mk1CYZ9l580DKuz8s_vunlbi2baQwn41sprj0StBxz9rL/s320/mandj.JPG" /></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">Megan and jr. apprentice Jules</span></p><br />The weekend also involved a hike...some time with my friend Cami and her family (including a brush with death, in the form of a black widow), dinner with Kathy and friends at her house...including a "not-so-haunted" haunted house. I will be honest....it was the BEST haunted house I've ever been to. Ever. It was in the garage, it was well-lit and I knew when the children (who were not in costumes resembling horror film creatures) were going to jump out at me and/or throw a blue plastic ball at my head. Loved it. Great weekend.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36079996.post-42196613716139771712010-10-10T22:17:00.005-07:002010-10-10T23:40:30.583-07:0010-10-10<p align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDUDAHEy8yvW81GCO1UXKaq3XkbjXVACmbAdGjYCDKaN-dltp8j42-bevDRvx-4V3UtW8uyzdLkxruysEwa2nqETNlsfMBdsNdqjy3E2t3-iEpnFURd0KekBgeiBvYkFYumE7Q/s1600/ten.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526667862042229058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDUDAHEy8yvW81GCO1UXKaq3XkbjXVACmbAdGjYCDKaN-dltp8j42-bevDRvx-4V3UtW8uyzdLkxruysEwa2nqETNlsfMBdsNdqjy3E2t3-iEpnFURd0KekBgeiBvYkFYumE7Q/s320/ten.jpg" /></a></p><div align="left">I'd really like you to think I'm a genius for thinking up the idea of doing a list of 10 things in honor of today's remarkable 10-10-10 date. Alas, I'm totally stealing the idea from the blog of a person I don't even know.<br /><br />So you're gonna have to just stick with all the other reasons you think I'm a genius.<br /><br />In no particular order, I give you...ten pieces of information about me/my life/my thoughts.<br /><br />1. I'm afraid that pumpkin chocolate chip cookies are even more addicting this year than last. Why are they SO easy and why do they only require 3 ingredients and why can they be cooked up in a simple 15 minutes?!?! Why, why, why?<br /><br />2. This year I set a goal to run 600 miles. I am happy to announce that I am 17.56 miles ahead of schedule.<br /><br />3. Don't be deceived/jealous of my purported health and vigor. Last week I ran nearly 18 miles, including a "long-run" day of 9 miles. Apparently 9 miles isn't enough to cancel out the effects of pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. So...I run a lot...and apparently eat a lot...and maintain this weight that is not really preferred but could be worse.</div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">4. I really can't get enough of fall/winter candles. Pumpkin spice...cinnamon apple...and my absolute favorite...my entire "pine" collection that could honestly probably rival the aroma of an entire mountain of those amazing trees.</div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">5. I think I have a crush on the checker at Sprouts (And yes, he's a Man, not a 15-yr old teenage kid...he's at least 29 I'm sure). I didn't quite know how to get him to fall in love with me in the 3.5-minute interval as he rang up my selection of healthy fare. I did make him laugh twice, including when I said "Wow, I'm good!" after my bill totalled an EXACT $24.00. But apparently it takes a little more than a perfectly even grocery sum to really woo a man. I'm convinced if I buy enough fresh produce, and keep having perfectly even totals...our love will grow and I will soon be Mrs. Checker at Sprouts. And my viewers at home are sighing and thinking..."No wonder she's not married."</div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">6. It's almost time for flannel sheets. Last night I did the math...I plan to keep the flannel on from now until...probably April...a good 7 months. In Utah, I can have them year round...just not possible here. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left">7. My student loan will be paid off as of Wednesday. Hallelujah for this. Now it's time to create a plan for the next goal...buying a house. As much as I love my 10x10 den...I <em>really, really, really</em> miss my huge walk-in closet.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left">8. I love the kids in my life...all of them. Had a little girl who's nearing the end of our sessions get sassy with me this week while doing our work, when I called her on it, she blurted out: "I don't want to stop coming here. I want to stay here and be your daughter." Ahhhh...killed me. She's an amazing kid...and what she doesn't know is that I'd keep her if I could. </div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">This weekend my friend's darling little Carter came running towards me and said: "Oh Julie, I just wanna be friends with you and hug you for all time." I adore him and love that he genuinely makes me laugh...not the "Oh, I'll laugh because you're little and I'm supposed to" laugh, but the kind where I laugh and laugh and laugh and later...days later, laugh again. LOVE you Carts! </div><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526667359376327186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz-JL0bxMu5UKvvPmO0E9Hh_yAWXNNfQ7ANvJJCTqMnTRmu1UoFLE6K6PYjJc8F3jc5y0Lay_5qmHaEFRM3aOopXvMU87CXHsmc4soQjp9kWQ_SUwvb7R7krX7rh-JzP58t_N2/s320/Carter's+cookies.jpg" /><span style="font-size:78%;"> Carter and I making cookies recently...pumpkin chocolate chip of course...</span></p><p>9. I have really good friends. I am not saying this to make you feel sad, I bet you do too, I want you to have these kinds of friends. It's just...they are REALLY good. Last night I sat with a friend and we covered a billion different topics...some deep, some not...some funny, some not...some laughing, more than a little crying...and then and now I feel so grateful for her. That feeling of being completely safe.....best friend/big sister/nurturer/punk/teaser/voice of reason....all in one. Lucky me. And to her...love you <strong>SO</strong> much! So grateful for you.</p><p>10. Do NOT tell anyone, but I really am liking these dang Webelos. (PS-Thanks Sher for the shirt...so I can get off the black-list for being a bad example-love you!) This week during our conversation on first-aid and the importance of assessing a scene to determine where to begin...darling little wonder shows off the depth of his wisdom in saying: <span style="font-size:78%;">(warning, slightly graphic...we ARE dealing with 10-yr olds, after all)</span></p><span style="font-family:georgia;"><em><blockquote><span style="font-family:georgia;"><em>"Yeah, like if you come up to a place and one guy has his head cut off and another guy just has his arm cut off, you're probably gonna wanna help the guy whose arm is cut off, because the guy whose head is cut off is probably not gonna make it."</em></span></blockquote><p></em></span>Are you KIDDING me?!?! Ew! Gosh, ahhh! Laura and I are laughing in shock...but...okay...kinda true. Then we're trying to get them to guess what it's called when someone's choking...this is the manuevuer you do...starts with an 'H'...and our darling, newest, super shy little guy looks up with big eyes and in all sincerity and hopefulness says: "Hyperbole?" Stop it. Darling wonder...hyperbole??? Bless your little Webelos heart...</p><p>Summary: on this day of 10-10-10...life is pretty good.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36079996.post-83569550519104002442010-09-25T14:07:00.007-07:002010-09-25T16:10:33.091-07:00A Thousand Words Paint a Picture<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">The worst news is that I didn't get a picture. The best news is that I am going to do my very best to "paint the picture" in your brain of what I witnessed at the gym this past week. Ready.<br /><br />Go.<br /><br />It is 7:07 on a Wednesday morning.<br />I have found "my" treadmill at the gym and have begun my run...am about 3/4 of a mile in.<br />When out of nowhere...a woman appears.<br />Wearing purple.<br />ALL purple.<br />Purple in layers...tank top, shirt, cardigan, stretchy pants, socks, etc. (NOT typical gym clothes).<br />She walks towards me and I know she's going to choose the treadmill next to me.<br />(I am a magnet for this kind of thing...to be explained next post).<br />Madame Purple is a very, very large woman both in height (6 ft?) and girth.<br />(I am only saying that because you need the picture.<br />I am not mocking and would never as I am well-acquainted with obesity.)<br />Her warm-up is <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">benign</span> enough...typical.<br />Then in go her (purple) earphones.<br />And the madness begins.<br />She puts her treadmill at an incline of about a bazillion.<br />Then turns around and is walking backward...up the steep incline.<br />I have seen incline. I have seen backwards. I don't typically see backward incline.<br />I especially don't see PURPLE backward incline.<br />So while I'm marveling at <em>just</em> this...<br />I catch out of the corner of my eye...some kind of hand motions...<br />Sign language.<br />Of course.<br />I look to see if she <em>happens</em> to have a friend who is deaf on a treadmill that would be facing her, as she is still walking backwards.<br />Nope.<br />Signing to herself.<br />Of course.<br />Purple backward incline with Sign.<br />My genius kicks in and I think: "Wait, she's not deaf or she wouldn't have headphones...this is just an extra talent"<br />I then wonder how "subtle" my staring has been to this point.<br />I decide, on a scale of 1-10, NOT subtle. Sorry lady. You chose my row.<br />I do my best to lose myself in the catchy lyrics my beautiful <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">iPod</span> sings to me.<br />I am running, I am strong. I am not <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">distrac</span>....<br />Ms. Purple has turned around.<br />Lowered the treadmill incline from a bazillion to zero.<br />Her hands are still moving.<br />But it is not sign language.<br />I happen to notice she's walking at a 24:19 min/mile pace.<br />It is then than I notice that her hands/arms and torso are <em><strong>dancing</strong></em> at an impressive 6:14. At least.<br />Of course.<br />Mama Purple got <em>moves</em>.<br />She is a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">dancin</span>' MA-SHEEN!<br />I briefly (but quite seriously) consider stating the previous 2 <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">sentences</span> out loud. To her.<br />I decide against it.<br />I attempt to not look.<br />I feel angry that I'm losing the "I will NOT look" battle.<br />Mama Madame Purple is winning.<br />I decided I am "allowed" to look once every 2 minutes. With s<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">ubtlety</span>, of course.<br />I end up looking every 20 seconds. Or more.<br />I realize I am not the only <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">Treadmillist</span> thrown by this violet display of personal victory.<br />I start to wonder if I could get away with it.<br />We could start something, me and Mama.<br />Like that Josh Turner </span><a href="http://espanol.video.yahoo.com/watch/6745049/v218623488"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#999999;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">Flashmob</span> thing</span></span></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#999999;">.</span><br />(<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">ps</span>, </span></span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yp1_NnpIxDk"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">this</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"> is not that video, but it will make you smile, starting at 2:27)<br />(<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">pps</span>-the 2<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">nd</span> video is proof that <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error">youtube</span> <strong>is</strong> for everyone)<br />I get lost in that possibility for a few miles. A <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-error">flashmob</span> at the gym. Brilliant.<br />The possibilities...<br />But I am shaken from the depth of my future flashmob fantasies to see that...<br />The incline is again at bazillion.<br />And the cycle continues. For the rest of my entire run.<br />I ran an extra mile just to see if i could "out run" this behavior.<br />Near the end of that mile, Mama smiled and dismounted her treadmill.<br />As did I.<br />Goodbye my purple friend. Until next week?<br /><br /><br /><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-error">PPPS</span>-i really can't get enough of </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7EYAUazLI9k"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">these</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">. Admit it...look at the faces of the people watching...it's beautiful...I love that people watching can't help but smile and that most everyone is affected in a positive way.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36079996.post-43834930622765204342010-08-17T20:50:00.003-07:002010-08-17T20:58:11.736-07:00Forgiveness<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEill1sMKykWOwMhJvytI-WKAWPCCdgppx80mZFEF5wVhnmd-qTMgCHG927UGuyTwfyS-asAqXg5t2HUqR5fW8StxKGLYH7ov1noFhGmLVdQTIrRst3rNJP6avl36R0-Yit0-ta7/s1600/forgiveness.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 302px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506592515672206050" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEill1sMKykWOwMhJvytI-WKAWPCCdgppx80mZFEF5wVhnmd-qTMgCHG927UGuyTwfyS-asAqXg5t2HUqR5fW8StxKGLYH7ov1noFhGmLVdQTIrRst3rNJP6avl36R0-Yit0-ta7/s400/forgiveness.jpg" /></a>So, up until about...Sunday...I believed that I had the fool-proof way to avoid having to speak in sacrament meeting. It goes like this: accept a teaching position in relief society or gospel doctrine...and bear your testimony on occasion (approximately 2 times per year, give or take). For about 10 years that worked for me. Until Sunday.<br /><br />So...this Sunday I'm speaking in church...on forgiveness. I have a thousand different ideas and haven't yet decided which direction I will be taking this talk...but it will probably include elements of:<br /><ul><li>importance of forgiving others</li><li>importance of forgiving self</li><li>importance of allowing time for real forgiveness and not judging self or others when/if the process is not quick or immediate</li></ul><p>But....I'd love to hear any thoughts, quotes, stories, scriptures or anything meaningful that my dear friends may feel inclined to share. Also...what do you think is missing when this topic is discussed? What do you think we need more of? Less of? If you have thoughts, feel free to leave them as comments or email me if they are more personal. If not...</p><p>I forgive you.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36079996.post-51670645446930989522010-08-01T16:38:00.021-07:002010-08-02T20:38:16.777-07:00Summer visit to Utah!Had SO much fun in Utah...have tons of pictures to share...<br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div>Spent a day at the cabin with just dad and I, which was great. He cut down trees while I laid in the hammock, then we decided to make little stumps out of the segments for sitting on around the fire...sealed the tops off with...varathane? Then a long ride on the 4-wheelers...good day. While hiking near the buick, dad came very close to stepping on a rattlesnake...luckily he has very quick reflexes because he was able to miss it. Though he WAS disappointed when I didn't hand him the camera quick enough for a quality photo...all he got was the tail because I was worrying about ridiculous things...like GETTING AWAY from the VIPER... In the photo below...no snake, right??<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500595629006878930" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgefgiM_O1G7B7Ldo7O0Plzniqq3d6oBTpmvTqb5jPrfjbTA3Byc0LA245Q4WDa4yKavMMnFvHmHNT05-JBDOmbMNnLVtc65ysGjVxMGsmkA71SXflrGKazE9JHHMyOio3yMCe5/s400/July+2010-Home+017.JPG" /></div><div><br /></div><div>WRONG!!! See, he's getting away...but there is his tail...<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500596402501571362" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLuO7PjSrKQouuet4Lh-05IpstA7EH-_ZVXiAdbJvBiIT9J1Z2AGhC1KIdOWsbhOkBFcCaP27hlNl3zVJ2BLr0qSeDUmxH8zt7laZkn3pJZTipyod8Klc1e713RH6WCBx4Ym-q/s400/snake2.JPG" /> Anyway...cabin fun with dad: which involved a photo op with "Dad's Buick"...even though I didn't think GETTING IN was a good idea...he was not afraid of glass and rusted metal...apparently the rattlesnake wasn't enough danger and he needed a little more. We also had a s'mores competition (microwave version). He and I have different opinions regarding the winner of said competition...<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 250px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500597130540337058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG7rc8jKytat-98zS6-lVz-tbocsb-dn22g_x1gWenCAFHm7qyuPdBHSx6VABSHS_R4t_AG44pQD-fAjdirYTdakON_GdK-GdK1vZIcYjEblbddta-Rx5QLijCIEpXTAOA3_Lh/s400/Dadandjulescabin.jpg" /> A few days later we went to the cabin with Jeff and Kim and their kids and mom and dad and I. Had so much fun as usual...went on long 4-wheeler rides, had fun with the HUGE marshmallows from the Peterson's (thanks Areta!) and enjoyed time in the hammock and very frequent trips to what Parker has now named "the treat drawer."<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 250px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500603350843922338" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh77kD_sLRDjLKL1ImzR-wY1yRjLHXDi1QgSywUqci2zNjWUfW6IujqmmYUh83Z74haAYpOGh61TGHIdMgA7kAAWaLbSh5fmQE0zqb_zoWaubnOWtd4QRY5zcW6g8z4NL4kI8MD/s400/4-wheelingcabin2010.jpg" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 250px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500644860703339922" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIzDqGCCTFJ99Q5vp2FoMCwT2CDZVSa1oZ90CYrxS34-9y_Jzzh3ulsgT66Ay5or88fKt37Sz9Z0Irpu7mxD_xHVtdOnLRv0ARrkzsnYoT1fCGPTHYNzaQ6KZT0CgtFtA86h2r/s400/CabinFire2010.jpg" /></div><div><br /></div><p>So...Picasa won't upload some of my camera phone pictures into the collages...so here are some of the favorites...</p></div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500664638365469490" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmUIFiVqH1UafzRJ7mIeEdEWuqIsCEz4M9ZQwVXHXtg1nlTg3y2hFsH0deM-tp9NQvVymqeLRUqDSwiFQ8eXf1fYY1EC8BY13NpLxAAwFYTmxq7Ed82UJXxpuW16W8rSzg7jPA/s400/Camera+Phone+june-july+2010+122.jpg" /> Cute Claire and Mitch on the way to Park City.. <div></div><div></div><div>.<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500664642672613682" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8PoVTQPSS0S2Tn96ISTzHGG5ZPbNZdkUDtjV3-gIdUUb2b3sR1KUYBppZR60ot-MfpGBWwK_aaRhwW1zKBoYVi06MQ7JRZ4nZj5zSWN_V5f8r__aGtPyk9aCu3A_AAE8eFkmU/s400/Camera+Phone+june-july+2010+138.jpg" />I have no idea why Burger King chose to put The Vampires on their kids crowns...something about Bella next to darling, sweet Carter just looks wrong. BK, bring back the gold crowns with brightly colored circles please!!</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500664631005405986" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWLBoZGfLSU6rFiOqNItBIIfOP4SA5Yqwj9zG3yx3KV6lXFKM0YU_hi8AJIJGYFWLRDXBXlkMU-2aCPq-Vu4_TaSocee8ov0NKBZfF9cTro4uZ8brUtX1s37_rZhmKT4y9cI3m/s400/Camera+Phone+june-july+2010+101.jpg" />It's a good day when you get lucky enough to 1-get Cayden in the photo, 2-get Cayden smiling and looking at the camera in the photo! Love this little redhead!!</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500664633641458418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioOvRQEOzgkIm5qg0lPWak60SC-sbNthaCpcRIx467S8nMku2ERsXmJSWHNvTgsJ8F8Au8mS2C9NS1OXpoNbM7YLcC0XxCjL0tC-8MxSDh4a0QpgZTJV359ND-58R8LrMrHDke/s400/Camera+Phone+june-july+2010+123.jpg" />It's a shame that this is the only picture I have of Areta from my trip. Sorry sister. But we all know you're busy reading NieNie or wading through an inbox of 3,425 emails so you won't ever see this, right? ;)</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500646134672272370" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikyBgbSi4dy03zTmXUOhp5BWdjqv3oaz-DTgStbfvYD-1ZPbqWrBpBi9zL10D4YGGGMP5A9XZiikpDRAMcJpdZntdA1eUxq1COyhyrHGOdvu5U-YkgKba3wyWwj3NSoalS0vgM/s320/Camera+Phone+june-july+2010+153.jpg" /></div><div>I can 't even get enough of darling Carter with goggles on...this most darling little face, cute cheeks...love, love, love this boy. Love that he's a snuggler, love that he and I spent at least 2 hours one morning at the cabin laughing and snuggling...playing the "do you want a <strong>BIG</strong> hug or a <span style="font-size:78%;"><strong>little</strong></span> hug?" game we made up.<br /><br /></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500646166125812802" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaZJNYn7uFdLKwxFeTrVBrVhftFT3UyaAkjqDr7LWndGL_lKhkgQD5W9BNDUHhikP-K1sIqX8vxxuKKRxLyCXsUUbvLpeyjyoKegfZfcCcn3GprQPaGUPSyWR-daOpFkw44tRa/s320/Camera+Phone+june-july+2010+146.jpg" /> Three cute girls in the hammock...<br /><br /><div><div><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500646139361939058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgax8Cl4ruAN4KfFBWJupN0Sb_bqNzlC23YzS9kLe0wghOCs-mJqHTGZk4m8bAOJ_qNMgaIFpJ99MxI3zetAlPY3P8UXoq8Y9-pp0xX4y02lT-t-wdPfdnS_H68R1O3p25u_MvO/s320/Camera+Phone+june-july+2010+150.jpg" /></div><div>So...also got to be in Utah over the 4th of July. Had a great day, ran the Kaysville 5k run with Areta and her family (as well as half of Kaysville), then enjoyed the looooong parade (we had perfect seats in the shade (thanks Janay) and even felt a little cold...nice!<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 250px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500653546571625410" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh92VCR8QLo7_VpzjUh6r5yUlJm1am8M8acrWdE4N3JS61JPUXp548Vsx3fRyXCovjHd8kI-FEhV8SAImzrrggf51XzMphZ1KehH9lYH5RmPMON_hiJKCO8jMFnO_qQpRyC5cmh/s400/Parade+2010.jpg" />After parade we went all went swimming with the Peterson's...so much fun. </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 250px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500663386772804946" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidSD0KEREtLKdujSixM2uAm-fS8A4saaNloHKFStol_JEM-uNuuA2gausPMOFxypgkrYj3uBTXjDHgV29bqzXnKJ3qsZExX-2PCEZMAOjA-uCOkSovZ1S8iPqs6tihiSbv_KVq/s400/4th+of+july+swimming.jpg" /> <div>Then a great dinner...then off to fireworks @ Davis High. I loved that darling, brave Cayden is not afraid of anything (except for the fireworks this year...note the picture of him sitting UNDER the chair...darling)...but then he sat with Grandpa and liked them after all. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 250px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500658402808351186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjQfA1B5ovVSpkc7xiLpypTJSFKUPYtFCaJliihO14wZvqVdjR3c01EwYAaH3bkQC6yPcnxZMcQ34SABiV4FWGEaabB1ISlk8kBwLalp-PMctdLeudG-J7tdBFl9MpLLyBpEdI/s400/Fireworks+2010.jpg" /></div><div></div>More Camera phone favorites from the 4th:</div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500655148795871810" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ_jcMch02meB8mhCvSA2jEq4rnaqEFbIj9dJTg1zzhzeIMUXfV_vZdSG30MplaU903zQwsbZc_p5Im7n7ZIc-y-wNp9Rz-6bq8kI4kyjmy7KzqiFffDNGkufpoSr2rFgl-jhE/s400/Camera+Phone+june-july+2010+105.jpg" /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500655158815083314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD6s5OH21M08HVut1MFU7N0l-_dnuWCHPzWq_k_xXWJyX16HSC2aOWul_UYKUeihDyOBVwGHHi7-t2kKK0vRfzYo1QIELptmO6lAOgcgOD_hs8drSjfOLWNfbusmfEVTk2O2r_/s400/Camera+Phone+june-july+2010+109.jpg" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500655157614202930" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbPwn2VOoRkaMe-TCqvbp9FhG1mwIcY6of_6uoBulxQP-gS9OXpYHc6mNF3eRQwREq1UohnsF6Fc9YYWaf5cbL0MFY6cldto79y0JzFlDRPq6PfJUa0hP2nIc5zs0BAZJRdKUW/s400/Camera+Phone+june-july+2010+107.jpg" /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500655150022508274" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg1twcBy2pXYjAEmDPJFd2NihAhjlx3ebRtuKpsE40tUs1PFnuITNoASsiSL0hKcOrPjT10q6j5bzk8iOokTXuA30nXzHuMnWV64yIcgEuFWtnUUK2Nj55DQ6Hg2ni7lhbWZuT/s400/Camera+Phone+june-july+2010+113.jpg" /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><br />My trip also included: visits to see both grandmas, fun shopping with mom, meals with old friends and new babies (so fun to see you Gaye and Ann...and I'll share my muffins with Noah any day-darling boy!), running in the cool mornings with Areta, Cherry Hill with the Peterson's, lots of shopping with mom, mid-afternoon naps with Mollie the WonderDog, sleeping at night in the cold basement in flannel sheets...HEAVEN, and lots of time to love on my darling nieces and nephews...great trip!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36079996.post-58452760618761954502010-08-01T15:49:00.008-07:002010-08-01T22:24:54.732-07:00Picacho Peak w/ Sher!<div align="left">So. Catch up. Sher visited in May...we had so much fun. I think the highlight for both of us was hiking Picacho Peak. For sure the hardest/best hike I've done. Very steep, Sher and I loved the cables...kind of like rock climbing but with cables instead of harnesses. Awesome.... Lots of pictures... <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500586430185780242" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikqOzxFbDa6i_oOg0_F2nXkP-O2zOouuMF-t6mXAkJIy3Bp3FZxgtH6x4cmmP7KuhuNBlCCHCb39GdywdlCzO6JJ_CnckYe7b_LUv6cyIg_BI03MVnQj3HBUki7pxAOZeyosiq/s400/Sher+Visit+May+2010+004.JPG" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500582494853661250" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK22bCm7uiZdIb_DqwXAnT-L4qpdG00ZFna0QXrsRndwPznbuj7riN17dUz_yzuw2tI4tefQQEowf8lAt4oPb891mhOQMU0cPctnMsX4QQWMs_4UBXBLtbaK9Flh6wZEi7pet3/s400/thestart.JPG" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500582504300757922" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5k-R_JKWqTw72vaq2faDJLTN7Zyz7BGR1aw8FJd_yNpU1D8VzlmyTBvCRyj0-pL9nppol2-Cw09LoLsjn2cRGbVo-7grvjk6LIUuuvkIyjH8U5BpRMFkDVN-JVomnSk-KJ2eW/s400/sherpoint.JPG" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500583598385394306" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN8JMniIx5Gz1v0QfUtE8vAhaGHfTCLAso_l_NvLf-tuavs_ISPCI0YrMLxTsLhtVL7-b4CKKNprIDptjIlAgtd0I_FSliFVQp7qnqviSYF2B7DY0wih6IevThvirBmkqdusyU/s400/norail.JPG" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500582509455058594" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsoZXrAWNaiuGpRdgn0UtMC7CtuANNDZi7L35z7UQ1lKT2mpoUnM95Q2UY7G5VgjwgDpy2gNShR6eQO8Txvm_HjLmXs1s4uuGN6TK7PlceOK-c1RClRcaLfIhZ3Ms7gPr_hRp3/s400/goodheck.JPG" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500582513365183954" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV7XHYv5t7qYXXZh-I2XkF8WGUi32KpurNL2ZFwSCdWy7S-EUHf3wEs9lCG4GryHfrBhk49AgzkuFsvTwd33Fvfh8Lw5ubhW0EVb_yhWw7_Hp_Q2pmiN8HEcu3SnrBTl0w9Btk/s400/jb.JPG" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500586442169336658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqGArSQARMkDU_4uFwchME2sr0f-5QGQiWYaaRPwgiBEL5KdJ8s-BX1whGA86wvZxRFnofSVxjWFPW6desf809FGl1tm9sqUDDySW4NVaygBzSbEXbZeO2fwB1CLhoPbeVl3oA/s400/Sher+Visit+May+2010+013.JPG" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500586429465911970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjT5Or41p4zaWAjaY6VYCJZdbyyJxQTMecoOJEBo0EqU7-us8KXUXzpF8i69ABWfDNSCaWPsdTjvDpKqqAQTgf15KBQYzyyWh4O00v4vHmudidGjYqQ6D-RlJddSnfVmcCkQRS/s400/sher2.JPG" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500586417847027074" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH9fC9kEzg4TqXomGM2yEWY3aribHKNW2aiE4HajCqcGlsyKQgN_bXJ-L_7MlsGrQLYcQfLYkt3vp4ne9ogvDPVXL2GGyLTwF168p_xaInloY7lUnhRNwVnPIvXzZaZG7gKUk2/s400/sher.JPG" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500583587166449170" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcXmQ49Hdse-murf-A1FAaVjEestQiJXJk4dCnWoYvkn55SE79_5d0M1rV_fnuiBT7OXmsgj4NqASlxj1sUfK7JrdKjeAVfuG-pdMgguEZUp8z7pChx-uhQPwP0VDHNHnVYhlG/s400/jules.JPG" /> <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500582522223107970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZnsdN7Yd2m-R5gZgXQFgPra6S0_CafnuxhqQkkQbdCTxA73eSNErqWWD4M1lB5zVNcGITvf0oYgdHYkzvRzFSqXJOxcYNBxOEposC_DDCh1dYrZq_a3fkqMYrVSKNC-A-Wslm/s400/cute+sher.JPG" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500583548928241090" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJOjy2QpnpcvpJpLmT9_2Q_vSqYZ11AWXSmy6G40L575CbkUkJdYw2QsMsRBog38aSUh-2wga42_r2ycTnZnVZEpwmdme51q1GC9vqcWqrJTkjbyzkGLGA6QDJE2L9QNs_n45a/s400/face.JPG" />PS-For a good laugh, enlarge the picture above...my face makes me laugh...kiiiiiinda intense. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500587610377856114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUo5pqbvbQJYwOfRMAQu5XPtAKtyjjOKbgnIm2yvIszzA_Sl7K6UJjNXhC8x3Am9C8sIJmwI2PPPInQEXQ5STDrcnLqXKoiNDqw3af2dm1puhTCE6Xw44_Crxz5tJdJlB0BenV/s400/steep.JPG" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500586449585288914" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO22kjykskCmiUWWN1RbVWT_MacLf_YisCrgA18-Cw2SU5UkBgdxIgCY5mZY6y8LILGod43lIni-NuR4TChqBQdztwnEhszJebs4Gj8VkrFUD1jk1X8oru8S0bNx6MwWkc9sV4/s400/sherwind.JPG" />love the picture above of Sher...hello, right out of an REI magazine...intense. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500583560609853506" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLouvV5jhJYNMsIksBhP4I2AtfnjEj3eIngChlacVaj7ozzbtHL7VwtNdd8WUusdEkHKT7X2swG_ETcCWtsJoFHu4T_8m7wXApHEGrdFgeRK1BMe4dEr5nqaDHo2gl0Aml-uDn/s400/holes.JPG" />At the end we were walking for what felt like HOURS...it was boring and flat and hot and I was out of water...I said "Pally, kinda feels like we're in the movie 'Holes,' don't ya think?" Seriously...Next time we're going the Hunter's Trail way...so we skip the 3 miles of strolling through the Sahara in the heat of the day. (PS-for future reference, May is WAY too hot to do this hike-was over 100 degrees for most of it...October-March...probably perfect).</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36079996.post-34210950903027251642010-05-09T00:38:00.002-07:002010-05-08T23:26:54.164-07:00Mother's Day-Part II<em><span style="font-size:85%;">Preface: this is another of those more "real" kinds of posts that you don't see super often here. But since this IS my blog/journal...I feel entitled. Wait til next week if you want frivolity. XOXO-jb</span></em><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">To my future kids,<br /><br />So, tomorrow is Mother's Day down here. Kind of a weird day for me. Easy in that I get to think about and celebrate my mom and all that she's done for me...and also all the women I know and love who teach, love and nurture-I am lucky in that there are many.... But hard in that I am not celebrating it as a Mother. And my friends will say that I love & nurture my darling kiddos in therapy and even my new little darling stinky webelos, and my nieces & nephews and my friends children-all of whom I love as if they were mine...<br /><br />Still. I am waiting for you. I don't know how you will come, I am hoping I will have the experience of feeling the miracle of life, with a tiny you moving in me...I want to know about that. I am also aware that there's a good chance one or more of you may come into my life through adoption and I am excited for that. You may come to me as a big kid with some rough stuff that happened to you before we meet-I'll be ready for that too. I will wrap you up in more hugs than you ever thought possible and we'll do whatever it takes to help you grow up safe.<br /><br />The mom stuff I feel ready for, it's the wife stuff that's tricky. Where the heck is your dad??!?! Seriously, when he shows up, I'm not sure if I'm going to lecture him about his severe tardiness or kiss him long and hard. This waiting business is making me crazy. Still, I'm not picking a crazy (ask me later about "bike boy," "chick-fil-a" boy, etc). I'm looking for a good dad for you, one who will work hard, love me, and love you all-a lot. Someone who will be gentle but strong and honor his priesthood and his role as a husband and father. We may have to wait for the right one, deal? Once we find him, we get to keep him for always, so it will be worth the wait. Promise.<br /><br />I started thinking about you guys when I was about 3 and asking my mom when it would be MY turn to be a mom. Most of the time, I'm happy and busy and moving along with life, but always I wonder about you. Always I would pick you over anything else I have going on now. I'm turning 32 soon. I don't really worry about age except when I do the math...I'm now at least 32 years older than the oldest of you (if you're coming to be biologically), which means, I might seem very old to you. When you're graduating from high school, will your friends think I'm your grandma? Don't be mad, okay? And will I be strong and healthy so I can run around with you and your soccer/softball/basketball/tennis/track stuff? (Please don't pick football! I don't want you to get hurt!)<br /><br />Some of the stuff happening down here is kinda crazy. I worry about what you might have to deal with and I think about and pray for you even though you're not here yet, crazy huh? The only time I'm okay with you not being here yet is when I worry about keeping you safe... I'm sure gonna wish I could shield you from trials, and sickness and hard things...even though that's not really the plan...<br /><br />Sometimes I don't like going to church on Mother's Day. I don't like it when they make all the women over 18 stand as the deacons pass out flowers or chocolate....and the poor kid coming my way glances back at his mom and mouths "Her?!??! She doesn't even have kids! She's not even married!" and I pretend like I didn't see it because his mom is mortified. As he passes the gift my way, I make a mental note, "I am FOR SURE not coming next year!" Except that I say that every year and every year I go. I was pretty sure I wouldn't go this year except that it's my week to teach gospel doctrine.<br /><br />So. Tomorrow I will go to church. And all kinds of emotions will surface...because my feelings about the role of women, especially mothers, are more deep and more tender than I will ever be able to express in words. And my love and gratitude for my mom, as well as the other friends/family in my world who love, nurture, protect and teach is profound. As are my feelings about you...<br /><br />So, my dear little ones. You're not being "picked last," I have wanted you for a long, long, long time. And once you come, I'm keeping you forever and ever and ever.<br /><br />Love you,<br />Your (future) Mom</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36079996.post-70683037730086351152010-05-09T00:00:00.001-07:002010-05-08T23:19:53.592-07:00Mother's Day-Part I<span style="font-size:130%;">Mother's day growing up was easy and fun...usually involved construction paper cards or some amazing (you read: completely terrible looking) craft from school, including at least two ceramic jewelry boxes which I think mom kept for about 25 years. (I'm sure she wins the award, I'm guessing most moms ditched them about 24.5 years sooner). </span><div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;">So, it still is a great day..a smidge more complicated for me personally (for explanation please see the next post). I love my mom...have called her my "Kool-Aid" mom for about the last 10 years because in the kool-aid commercials, the mom always, always, always shows up with a smiley pitcher of kool-aid at precisely the right moment-assuring her perfect children would never get the slightest bit dehydrated. Granted, my mom loved us enough to NOT allow us to drink kool-aid endlessly...but she was the Queen of all the little things...presents on Valentine's day, green pancakes on St. Patrick's day, a candlelight pizza party on my tiny, tiny, tiny plastic "dishes," and bringing balloons and treats to the classroom for every birthday. She endured "pick-up picnics" (which I'll discuss during the Father's Day post), camping and other outdoor adventures well... She loved me then and loves me now. She worried about me then and she worries about me now. She always did her best...and I'm grateful for that. She was and is a great mom and I've learned so much from her.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;">No mother is perfect, and she's spent more than a minute apologizing for not being able to find me a REAL Cabbage Patch in 1983 when they were pretty much black-market...she thought the "American Kid" would do and my guess is that she was sad/surprised/devastated when her 5-yr old immediately ripped open the package to check the doll's hiney for the "Xavier Roberts" proof that it was an <em>AUTHENTIC</em> CPK...and found a signature-less bum...sigh. And she dealt pretty well with the teenage Jules who was somewhat mortified when her parents (ym/yw presidents at the time) disco danced during an activity in FULL disco attire. (Truth be told, they WERE good...I believe they had lessons at some point, true or false, mom?).</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;">I was browsing the Mother's day cards recently and found one with a mom and her young son on the front. Inside it says "Behind every great kid is a mom who's sure she's screwing it up." My experiences as a therapist would support the fact that most moms try very hard to do everything they can to help their children. They don't always do things perfectly, but that would be impossible. And most moms worry so much about not being perfect. The older I get, the better my perspective gets (and those of you older than me might laugh because I still have so far to go...) but it's really starting to make sense. I'm sure that when I cross the bridge into motherhood, things will suddenly/abruptly make much more sense. Mom used to tell me "You'll like me when you're older." Well Mom, I'm older. Like you. Love you. Lots.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;">So...my message to my darling mom and the other women I know and love who are all amazing Mothers...You are amazing. You are making a difference. You are loved, you matter and there's no such thing as perfect parenting...and there doesn't have to be. Your influence reaches far, much further than you know. So. Take a deep breath and get back to relaxing. This is, after all, your day! I love you!</span></div><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 250px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469134534474591170" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFyLFM4S3ldxixygjqOO75Kr_AWw9M-aeOcslaDFggM1yttN3X69dPbnLYzLo0wSu3OdG7VMqXfb3FBuSDVNTIdWLKIqiIhCMo2zAVKipAQNxTEL-Hr2KYwfKStaYWGk755fRm/s400/Mother's+Day+2010.jpg" /></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36079996.post-17374526079733245022010-04-26T18:55:00.009-07:002010-04-26T21:45:53.409-07:00Ragnar Part II: The Tutu<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 262px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464635573875395586" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKxgrGyVuL9dRSSmvgczGPjF1-WWg1IklUdjCMi-TbIwEOZeiRC166O1Y0PcFXDFtAXSBFZTeV1hColF_Z30pF2D1sscybKPfC1lerrDGW4KKQ-meX0gfYr-7Y1rOgs1H_XKpa/s320/Ragnar+2010+012.JPG" /><span style="color:#000000;">So...a Ragnar team usually consists of 12 runners...6 in one van, 6 in the other. While van 1 is running, Van 2 rests and vice-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">versa</span>. The race starts early Friday morning and ends sometime Saturday afternoon...going through the night. My team captain...cute Celeste, is a veteran Ragnar runner and knew the ins and outs...including the joys of having a team costume. I thought we were out of the woods when we were still costume-less the day before the race. But then Costco had to ruin all that for me.<br /><br /></span><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><span style="color:#000000;">You may or may not be able to tell that this us...digging through a large pile of tutus. Someone found them and jokingly said "It would be funny if..." and in an instant a little joke became a terrible reality. You might be wondering why Costco would be selling adult-sized tutus. Well, don't worry, <em>they weren't</em>. These are little girl's tutus...the largest size being a little girl's 7/8...and while there were a few runners on our team who probably <strong>do</strong> fit into little girl's clothing, for the rest of us, it was a bit of a tight squeeze. All in the name of fashion?<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464632185705095346" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG2o2p6ruJT_r5xZ1lousBk77WgJkOXhKP1ypqrhiJPtREMB9OyswPLgn2U6ibV34DII3zQly0WUGGm87Gvtrpix3F6KspTX6inwfcOVTAIag51neHxrrUj30XpZZbN-SlExu2/s320/DSCN2823.JPG" /></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#000000;">We got compliments /comments throughout the entire race. People we didn't know asked to take our picture...about 25-30 people (real number, not "Jules number"). And people who didn't ask were also taking our picture. I have a feeling I may one day find not-so-flattering (as if any of them are) pictures of me in a tutu. Men seemed to be particularly interested...as is evidenced in this picture below:<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464633709920389522" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgINOehjJsvXJ4i4gKAm4CpVUs4Uc2ant0zrx43S3a_d9_MqsU4yhibQZTdkWzf76ZqpETos9mcbxgSERYxf55JBtRLmeFLaQneha1lA3sKndrn8-kxxEXB1PWuHiupF_GPtMW6/s400/Ragnar+2010+015.JPG" /></span></div><br /><span style="color:#000000;">You may have to click on it to see it bigger, but there is a man standing behind us watching...and this is pretty indicative of how things went.</span></div></div><div><div><span style="color:#000000;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#000000;">At first I was NOT a fan of this idea. I did fall a little in love with my tutu (and <em>may</em> have even worn it when it wasn't required-like while stretching before the race while watching TV) <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464636984954493090" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMprNllakUBXG8r7Mrs7Y56Od9J1e_17LNcg-Mp_iics3-E60B68wwmgVATwcxGUQtFFVFJZfIgnajElRQx75zhBaomWMhD21kXmwU5gy1Xoo0sjzUfW6XFoSJkS6bjtsDvH_k/s320/Camera+Phone+pictures+159.jpg" />but still refused to actually wear it while running (most of my teammates wore theirs for all three of their runs). They said "Oh, you will cave...you'll wear it." FALSE! I did not. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464635603511258050" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIvCJpm-o0RXs4QR1NHwksP0_CbQ2lJ-9spsFV7iIRxTPfGX7aoKB2oCEAex6-el2Gx0GmVW4yT32JQw2xUm3kDklFGXigR4NhW48xW0ASfHeP9n1QAqoqrpMadewG4ujOEatr/s320/DSCN2844.JPG" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464656101677536258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiad15jYdA3tIVSrOvO4HQyyd_NYsiQY7F52mOSzGFSzeeLRVDjCPzvnlF5cK9YQghqL_8XwzTMSgfQouL64VY_zWmKmmigYkTBluA_Enui6rE03n1fGxCQ5iOKM1UwuoqTv9W/s320/Ragnar+2010+058.JPG" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464635610527368658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFBx_ye14Q-otJo9URGVMxufKs-PNFarDcPbviO1VbaNFjLhYHAqpHCtUWF1fkzPo1NNuKEC7-hmwgtyDy-9AZS9muvpQ8n5wv_nJGyVQJMAq9f2fpfcdyfWLCEDoeKLPdlsvn/s320/DSCN2855.JPG" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464635593891683314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgI6J_Cw4kgQaDsPm-96C9ZYfA-LbirJvTH3DX3J-H2DfmV_WH7A4oGvih-qsjzRb2PTZHDYW47nOG1eQ84L95tmmU_9hPuPyjGmfipjnOfaZvOHVm8wKBcFAwavx8XHASn8Xz/s320/Ragnar+2010+057.JPG" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464635586401185186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUidb1Rhk9HRap4YC3By3vcvCrtoDsVBLV8sGR2i_c1c8xlXU27CtdjIr8RCU7i8SKSmm9LvG3z6w56MjGn7LYSJ17e4CDBv6GF7Tp19qIjm5d4CWrdH2EecOefXv0B6GzbPP0/s320/Ragnar+2010+020.JPG" /></span></div></div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8